


We Hurt Together, We Hurt Alone

by Destiny1195



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-05-19 13:02:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 58,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5968240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destiny1195/pseuds/Destiny1195
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war has come to an end, and world of wizards and witches has moved on, attempting to reclaim what was once 'normal'. However, some are not so lucky; one such person is Harry Potter, the most prominent face in the war, and the worlds salvation. One night, he finds himself sitting alone in at a club, filled with grief and sorrow, until an unlikely encounter changes his life. D/H</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've never written anything in this particular fandom before, though I have read it extensively. Apologies before hand if I get any details relating to the actual 'lore' wrong, comes from not having read the books, and not having seen all the films xD  
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this :)

When a Dark Lord dies, and returns to wreak havoc and exact his vengeance on the world he feels should be his, and the person who defeated him once before, its effects spread farther than some may assume.  Whilst the wars epicentre had been Hogwarts, located in the Scottish Highlands, its ripples had left scars on the magic community worldwide; even now, two, going on three years after, those marks could be seen by all.

The world of wizards and witches had been slowly rebuilding, trying to regain some semblance of what it once was, rebuild what was now gone. The world had celebrated, showering those involved in bringing the war to a close with recognition and praise, whilst the remnants of the Dark Lords army had been summarily trialled and imprisoned. Now, everyone had moved on with their lives, trying their utmost to put the events behind them.

Yet, as is always the case, there are those few who simply cannot, regardless of how hard they try. Millions of distractions could be thrown their way, but in the end, they simply drift from day to day in a haze of pain and sorrow.

_War: first, one hopes to win; then one expects the enemy to lose; then, one is satisfied that he too is suffering; in the end, one is surprised that everyone has lost._

_xxx_

It was close to 12am, and the London streets were still packed to the point of near overpopulation, despite the time and the near torrential rainfall. The seemingly endless stream of human life milled from pub to pub, and then on to the numerous nightclubs that littered London’s streets. Everyone had the same thought in mind, drink until they could not drink any more, and then return home to collapse in a boneless heap.

It was with this very intent in mind that a young man with messy black hair, and vibrant green eyes had situated himself at the bar in one of the many nightclubs. The only thing that set this one apart was the wide range of real ales it offered, as well as the standard selections of cocktails and hard liquors.

All around him obnoxious music blared through the multitude of speakers, far louder than was entirely necessary, whilst the strobe lighting pulsating at a nauseating rate; people jostled back and forth, grinding and dancing as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist. Despite this cacophony of activity, the dark haired man remained rooted to the bar stool, head down, paying attention to nothing but the pint glass in his hand. He’d come here to seek escape, and let oblivion claim him, at least for a little while.

And why had he chosen this establishment, out of all the others? Because it had nothing to do with wizards, witches, or magic. It was muggle run, and frequented by muggles; which meant no one knew him, and no one would recognise him. No autographs, no incessant congratulations, no whispered conversations behind his back, no apologies for all he’d lost or sacrificed. Even now, in his semi normal life as an Auror, he could not escape the fame that had hounded him since he was little more than a baby. He loved his job, he truly did, had dreamt of it ever since he’d learned what ‘Aurors’ were, yet it only seemed to add to the stress he’d been feeling for so many years now, and served as a constant reminder of the past he desperately wanted to escape.

This dark haired man, who sort nothing but peace and escape, was Harry James Potter; saviour of the magic world, the individual who struck the final blow on Voldemort, thus bringing his reign of terror to a final end. Now though, he felt alone, and had come to regret all that had come to pass; the senseless deaths of friends and family, the destruction, the loss of innocence.

_xxx_

An hour later, Harry was still sitting in the same place, head still lowered, eyes still fixed on the glass that always seemed to be refilled at the most crucial moment, as if by magic. This thought brought a wry smile to his lightly tanned and handsome features, the first of the evening. In this very muggle club, the miraculously endless supply of alcohol could only be put down to the slim blonde woman behind the bar, who’d been eyeing him for most of the evening. She was pretty, dressed in a pair of tight fitting jeans, and a low cut top that seemed to have been designed to gape and show her rather noticeable lack of a bra whenever she bent over the bar surface. However, she was hardly his type. He ‘flew for the other team’, as one gossip column had once reported; absent any solid proof, of course. He’d made sure to keep details of his personal life as secret as possible; his life had been open to the public for years, and he’d grown tired of it, the simple fact that he preferred the company of men shouldn’t matter, and shouldn’t be treated as ground breaking news.

But, when you’re The Great Harry Potter, the world must know every fucking detail of your life.

The wry smile took on a distinctly bitter note, as his mind briefly drifted to a certain female reporter who’d been a constant source of frustration for a number of years; shaking his head for a brief moment Harry lifted the cold glass to his lips, and sipped the slightly frothed brown liquid. It was a traditional English ale, brewed by muggles, and at this very moment it tasted better than anything the magic community had ever come up with. It was simple, _normal_......everything he needed for just the one evening.

He returned the glass to the bar surface, and at long last turned his attention to the room, and the multitude of people. They all looked so happy and care free, he felt envious of them and their apparent ability to continue without the world overloading them, or outright beating them into submission.

Attempting to shake this dour mood slightly, Harry cast his eyes over the crowd again, more for lack of anything else to do than actually interest, raking over multicoloured shirts, trousers and then.......then his eyes locked onto something, _someone_. Piercing grey eyes that shone like silver and long blonde hair, a handsome yet sickly pale complexion; Harry could have sworn it was.....but that was impossible.

He searched the crowd again with a renewed interest, searching for whoever had caught his eye, for it could not have been who he thought it was, but to no avail. The distinct features had vanished. For the briefest of moments, Harry had thought he’d seen a face he hadn’t laid eyes on in a few years, since the war’s end; an old school rival.

He was about to turn back to the bar when he felt a cold hand rest itself on his shoulder, and an aristocratic, smug voice almost purred a simple sentence into his ear.

“Hello Potter”

_xxx_

As soon as those words were uttered, an old sense of annoyance and amusement arose from somewhere deep inside of Harry. These were emotions he’d learned to burry long ago, for the good of everyone, and to make things easier on himself; after all, it did him no good to have the constant desire to break said individuals nose every time he so much as breathed.

He sensed, more than saw the new arrival settle onto the bar stool next to his, the one that had been occupied by countless men and women throughout the night, all of whom eventually left when they realised he would pay them no attention. Harry took a breath, and turned to face the male now sitting at his side.

A pale, angular face softened by the mane of blond hair that encircled it and hung over his shoulders, with the silver eyes he was so certain he’d seen earlier, and apparently he’d not been wrong. The figure was still slender, though the dark trousers and button down shirt were tight enough to show off the toned body beneath.

The blonde haired git, the ferret, the former Death Eater, and in some ways, an unsung hero of the war, not to mention one of its victims. Draco Malfoy.

Harry exhaled slowly, still undecided if this sudden arrival was a good thing or not. They’d never been close, hardly two people who’d share a drink together. He felt strangely nervous, though he knew there’d be little worse than some verbal sparring.

“Hello Malfoy” Simple, not committal.

The blonde gave Harry a sideways glance, a strange smile briefly gracing his thin, pale lips. He raised one almost delicate hand of the bar top, slowly clenching and unclenching his long, elegant fingers, before he lowered his hand. Every move was slow, thought out, as if each single act had been planned out long in advance. But, that was always a trait of his; that natural grace and almost royal demeanour that only those from the richest pureblood families seemed to possess. Of course, it had been drilled into the blonde since he was born; one could hardly expect it to change now.  

“As friendly as ever, aren’t we Potter. So nice to see time and experience hasn’t made you bitter” the words were delivered with the grace and biting sarcasm that had made Malfoy a force to be reckoned with at Hogwarts “So, what do people drink in muggle establishments? I assume there’s something more palatable than piss on the menu”

Harry rolled his eyes, apparently he hadn’t changed much in the last few years, not that it came as much of a shock. Draco Malfoy was probably still sitting comfortably in Malfoy Manor along with his parents, Lucius and Narcissa. Whilst they had defected towards the end of the war, their pretentious nature seemed to have remained, if the youngest Malfoy was anything to go by. Still an arrogant, bloody minded sod.

“Nice to see you’re still the same pretentious bastard you always were” Long ago, Harry had developed the ability to match Malfoy’s sarcasm; especially important since the Slytherin had been the resident ‘bully’ at Hogwarts.

“Malfoy’s do not change”

It was a line he’d used often enough, so much so that it almost seemed like a family mantra, and it was delivered in the same superior fashion, with the same slight sneer every single time.

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes, neither entirely knowing what to say. They’d never been close, certainly didn’t like each other, yet they were now sitting next to each other at a bar in a night club, familiar with no one but each other. The dark haired male picked his glass up, and offered it to the blonde sitting next to him, hoping to lighten the mood a little.

“Abbot Ale. Try some if you want” A small smile graced his lips at the sceptical look the blonde gave him in return “It’s good, honestly”

Malfoy accepted the glass, his cold fingers grazing Harry’s in the process; a move that sent small shivers down the black haired male’s body. The sensation was strangely enjoyable, and seemed to make his heart beat faster.

“Abbot Ale, you say?” Malfoy swirled the liquid around the glass, and raised one delicate blonde eyebrow as he took a small sniff “This better not kill me Potter”

Harry couldn’t help but smirk in response, and chuckle ever so slightly. There was just something strangely comical about the way the blonde held the glass as if it were an offending object, with his pinkie pointing out to the side, and a look somewhere between a sneer and being utterly perplexed.

“Trust me Malfoy, it won’t kill you” Harry directed a teasing smirk at the blonde, unable to resist the urge to push his buttons “Might get you pissed if you drink too much though”

“It takes a lot to get me pissed Potter, _trust me_ on that” Steel grey eyes locked directly onto Harry’s emerald green ones, Malfoy raised the glass to his lips, and drank slowly and deeply. After a few moments, he set the glass back on the bar top, a fair portion of its contents now missing, and a heavy line of foam forming a moustache over his top lip.

He flexed his fingers again, stretching them out slowly, before forming a fist, one long elegant finger at a time.

“You know Potter, that’s not so bad....” Malfoy trailed off, a heavy frown forming on his delicate features “What on earth is that look for?”

The look in question was one of pure amusement on Harry’s part, which very quickly became a fit of laughter. Harry laughed until his stomach started to hurt, and all the breath had fled his body. He wiped tears from the corners of his eyes, and looked up at the perplexed expression that dominated the pale features before him. He hadn’t laughed like that in a long time, and it turned out to be none other than Draco Malfoy who broke his dour mood.

“What are you laughing at? Potter....damn it you twit, what’s so funny?” The look of pure outrage did nothing but evoke more laughter out of him, and continued to render Draco Malfoy somewhat speechless.

“It’s just....Oh sweet Merlin Draco....” Another small laugh escaped his rosy lips, before he regained enough control to speak properly “You have a beer foam moustache...”

The blonde male blinked in shock, and raised one of his immaculately groomed hands to his mouth, gentle touching his top lip with his finger tips. When he felt the damp foam line on his top lip he shook his head slightly, and grinned; it was a wide joyous grin which seemed to bring his whole visage alive. Harry couldn’t help but feel captivated by that grin, and the way his eyes seemed to sparkle in the dim light; all of which caused him some degree of confusing, given who it concerned.

Draco slowly swiped a finger along his upper lip, wiping away the foam, and brought his finger to his lips. Another slight chuckle escaped him, before he sucked the remnants off his finger, eyes fixed on Harry’s green orbs the whole time. The grin took on an almost teasing quality, as he tilted his head to the side, still looking at the dark haired male.

“You know, I don’t believe you’ve ever called me ‘Draco’ before” he leant towards Harry slightly, tapped a brief rhythm into the wooden surface with his fingers, still looking directly at the dark haired male “Why is that, I wonder?”

“I...uh...don’t know?” Harry opened and shut his mouth a few times, unable to interpret the remark. It was true, he’d never used Malfoy’s name before, and he couldn’t entirely figure out why he just had. Before, he’d always just been Malfoy, or the arrogant prick, the bastard, whatever suited at the time. It was an odd, spur of the moment act that had seemed natural “Um...Sorry about that? You know, for just calling you Malfoy”

Draco chuckled at the response; the sound entirely good humoured and relaxed; a side Harry wasn’t used to seeing out of him, had in fact assumed did not exist at all. In fact, if Harry wasn’t mistaken, he thought the blonde was being positively friendly.

“I’m joking. Pulling your leg, as I believe the muggles call it” Draco leant in even closer, trying to make it easier to speak over the pulsating music without casting one or two silencing charms “Now tell, _Harry_ , are you going to be buy me a tankard of this Abbot Ale of yours?”

He couldn’t help but smile in response. Initially, he’d thought the blonde was the same git he always had been at Hogwarts. Now that he’d had a brief chance to talk with him, Harry couldn’t help but feel the other male was different, as if he’d changed for the better. Even more impressive, was the fact that it was Malfoy who’d somehow managed to lift the fog of solitude and depression that clouded his mind every second of every day.

“It’s a ‘pint’ Malfoy, not a tankard” he shook his head, messy black hair moving side to side as if it had a life of its own, smile still present on his lips “We’re not in The Leaky Cauldron, remember?”

“Bah, a pox on your ‘pints’, but I’ll have one none the less” Draco snorted in mock annoyance, briefly waving an arm through the air like one used to the finer things in life “And really, call me Draco”

“Draco it is then” For some strange reason, Harry couldn’t help but smile at the insistency “Call me Harry, please”

Harry signalled the bartender, and placed he drinks order, still somewhat unsure at how he’d found himself in a nondescript London night club, a muggle one no less, seated with his old school rival. Who didn’t seem anywhere near as obnoxious as he recalled; he was actually semi pleasant and making jokes.

It was all very strange.

_xxx_

Some hours and many more pints later, the pair had migrated to a set of cushioned seats that had become available in a corner. This had proved to be one of the most surreal experiences of Harry’s life. A mere few hours ago he’d been trapped in the all encompassing depressive air that seemed to grip him continuously these days, only to find it had vanished, along with the constant feeling of solitude and loneliness. All because of one Draco Malfoy, who’d apparently appeared out of nowhere, in the very same club.

They’d spent the past few hours laughing and talking nonstop, trading tales of mischief at Hogwarts like two old friends. It felt extremely natural, as if they’d really been friends all along, and not bitter rivals bent on making things hell for each other. The music had died down slightly, the thumping beats being replaced by softer, more melodic songs. People began to pair off, slowly dancing to the music, lost in their own individual worlds.

“So, tell me” Draco leant towards Harry, pint glass held delicately in his hand “What does the great Harry Potter do these days?”

Harry smirked, in spite of himself, at the slight sarcasm. Maybe it was the drink, or maybe it was the loneliness, but there was something about Draco’s cutting wit that seemed to make him smile. He took a moment to consider his answer; what exactly _did_ he do with his life at the moment? When his Auror duties were done, he’d sit in his small London flat and brood, ignore his friends, and study magic; new spells, techniques, anything to make himself better, more efficient, and to keep his mind occupied from the guilt that pressed upon him every day.

In other words, at the tender age of 20, he’d become something of a hermit, all by desire. Of course, there was always Ron and Hermione, but he simply did not feel comfortable around them these days. They’d built a quiet life for themselves, settling into a pleasant house, and apparently enjoying life as a couple. Harry was happy for them, he truly was, but he couldn’t help but feel as if he’d been left behind; they’d gone somewhere he simply could not follow them to, not yet at least. As for Ginny, well, things had been a little frosty between them ever since she tried to kiss him and grope him in a corridor once, only for Harry to push her away and rather inarticulately announce he was, in fact, gay.

“Um....Well, I’m an Auror. The Minister offered me a job almost immediately....so I took it” Harry sighed slightly “It’s good work, a chance to help people”

“Harry Harry Harry...” Draco smirked over at him, his silver eyes almost dancing with glee, as he tapped a long finger against his chin in, as if in deep thought “How very Gryffindor of you. I wonder, is there a slight hero complex at work here?”

Harry snorted in response, his smile growing wider yet again.

“Shut up you fucking prat” Humour and amusement laced his voice, all of which was reinforced by the grin he directed at the blonde seated next to him.

“You know Harry, I think I’d rather see you try to shut me up” The smirk seemed to have returned full force, as had the superior, almost condescending manner. To any looking in, it would appear that the pair were arguing, though they each knew it was but a simple jest.

Harry was about to retort, when Draco sprang from his cushioned seat, and strode onto the crowded dance floor. As was always the case with the blonde, his steps were graceful, yet purposeful; secretly, Harry had always been slightly envious of his effortless grace, he always felt clumsy when compared to the blonde haired Slytherin. Now, looking at him properly, Harry couldn’t help but allow his eyes to travel. Really, Draco was an exceptionally good looking guy; grey eyes that shone like the rarest silver, pale though handsome features and his smile.....what Harry had come to learn that evening was that Draco’s smile was a thing of rare and refined beauty.

Of course, those characteristics aside, the blonde had a noticeably good body, made more noticeable by the very fitting clothes he’d elected to wear. A dark button down shirt, the top few undone giving just a hint of the pale skin beneath, paired with smart black trousers that clung to his nether regions in a most....distracting fashion. Part of him, the old student part of him, rebelled against the idea of finding Draco Malfoy attractive in the slightest, insisted it was a noting worth vomiting over ; but, the older mature side of him swatted that thought aside, with the argument that Draco was just a man, like any other.

And a damn good looking one at that.

As it turned out, Draco had in fact gone to the dance floor to dance; on the whole, not so shocking, or at least it wouldn’t have been if it were someone other than the gold standard of ‘pureblood’ wizards, and the self crowned Prince of Slytherin.

The moment Draco set foot on the dance floor the quiet reserve he seemed to practise, or the pole that habitually lived up his arse, vanished. It was as if the Slytherin had suddenly come to life, moving his body steadily in time with the music, eyes shut as if from pure ecstasy. Slowly, the sea of people parted before him, as in awe of Draco as Harry was. The moisture in the dark haired man’s mouth seemed to vanish, whilst his emerald eyes grew wider and wider; he’d never have imagined the stiff sod capable of something like this.

“Harry” Draco called, crisp voice carrying over the music, over the cheering masses as if they had ceased to exist “This music....what is it? It’s surprisingly good for something in a muggle establishment”

Harry shook his head in bewilderment, he still couldn’t believe what he was seeing; the blonde was in fact extremely good, and fucking distracting. Harry hadn’t touched another male in a long time, and the hip gyrations were becoming extremely distracting. Shaking himself mentally, he fought the urges away as best he could, and tried to focus on answering the question. This was a delicate peace they’d built quickly, and he’d rather not end on a sour note. Of course, the alcohol, and the fact that Draco’s sexuality was never easy to identify, simply did not help matters. Males and females alike seemed to throw themselves at Draco’s feet with alarming regularity, only to be swatted aside like mere insects; though the Hogwarts rumour mill had insisted that one Draco Malfoy had slept with the vast majority of the student population, gender be damned.

“Um....It’s ‘We All Sleep Alone’, by Cher” a brief smile flicked onto Harry’s face, as he remembered stealing his aunt’s records when she was out. The woman may have been a vile human being, but her taste in music was good.

Draco smiled wistfully in response, and gave a slight nod, as if that was all he needed to hear. He continued dancing until the songs end, still captivating everyone in the vicinity with his effortless grace and rhythm. When the next song, Heart of Stone by Bucks Fizz blared through the speakers, Draco’s movements’ changes slightly, just enough to fit the new beat. Within a few moments, he opened his eyes, and fixed them on Harry with an intensity that left the dark haired male breathless, with a strange feeling of sudden paralysis.

Draco’s smile turned predatory, as he held his hand out towards Harry, crooking a finger, beckoning him over to the centre of the dance floor, precisely the place Harry did not want to be, yet he found his legs taking him there as if by their own accord. When his legs came to a halt in front of the blonde, he stood stock still, a deep blush rising on his lightly tanned cheeks, entirely clueless as to what he should be doing. Dancing, of any kind, was not his forte, even more so when it left him the centre of attention, which was something he’d come to despise very quickly.

“Um...Dra..Draco..” Harry gulped, found himself unable to speak. His words shot forth in short gasps “I can’t dance...”

The blonde laughed in response, the sound warm, and pleasant. He stopped his movements, panting slightly, and looked at Harry.

“Somehow, that does not come as a shock. No doubt you have two left feet, broken ones at that” Draco grinned devilishly, snaked an arm around Harry’s waist, and pulled the other boys more built, but shorter frame flush against his own; chest to chest, almost nose to nose “Guess I’ll just have to show you, eh _Potter_ ”

Draco brought his other hand to Harry’s waist, effectively anchoring him in place, and slowly began to move his hips; an action that caused Harry to squawking in shock, and from the effect it was beginning to have on him. Draco’s body was still cool after all this time, and this simple fact seemed to set his nerves alight with something akin to pleasure; being so close to him was painful and exciting at the same time. Harry felt himself lean in slightly, bringing their faces ever so slightly closer. He inhaled involuntary, taking in whatever scent the blonde was wearing; it smelled masculine, expensive, sexy.

As if guided by the blonde’s strong grip, Harry’s hips began to move in tandem, their bodies pressing against each other constantly, causing a sweet friction in just the right places to leave Harry panting. Quickly those sounds became moans of pleasure, when Harry noticed how hard they’d both grown, and how deliciously those erections seemed to rub against each other with each subtle move of the hips.

“That’s right Harry, just like that” Draco cooed, head closing the gap between them, lips angling for a...

At that moment, the rational side of Harry’s brain kicked in, just enough for him to move his head away slightly, but not enough to stop this erotic dance, that everyone else had began to mimic; all lost in their own worlds, and the eyes of another.

“Draco, what are you.....” He was cut off by a sudden and forceful slap to his left arse cheek, and the involuntary gasp he gave as a response.

“Shut up Harry”

With one final smirk, Draco at last closed what little distance remained between them, capturing the Chosen Ones full lips with his own in a dominating kiss.

It only took a matter of seconds for Harry to give in completely; wrapping his arms around Draco’s back, almost holding onto the taller man for support, as if his life were dependant on it. Harry groaned into the fierce kiss when he felt Draco’s tongue force its way into his mouth, exploring, mapping, whilst long fingers curled in his thick black locks. However, the kiss came to an end all too soon for Harry’s liking, a fact that was made evident by the small mewing sound he made when it came to an end. However, a mere second later, he found groans spilling from his mouth yet again when the blonde yanked his head to one side, and began to attack the now exposed and flushed skin with rough nips and kisses; all the while travelling upwards, towards his ear.

When Draco’s lips were a mere millimetre away from his ear, he whispered a single line into it, a move that sent shivers down Harry’s spine, and sent his mind spinning.

“Your bed....Now” As much seduction as outright dominance, and Harry found himself unable to do anything but submit, giving himself fully to the other male.

After a few muttered words on Harry’s part and a half hearted wave of his hand, the pair vanished with a crack, barely audible above the pounding music.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a little longer than I'd have hoped. but finally got a second chapter produced. Hope you all enjoy it!

A moment later, a loud crack, similar to a car backfiring, rang throughout the small London apartment, as Draco and Harry appeared as if from nowhere at the foot of his bed, still locked in their embrace. Harry had never been fond of apparition as a form of travel, but it was certainly fast and efficient, once one put the sometimes unpleasant side effects of vomiting and loss of limb aside, not to mention the fact that the spell itself came with a somewhat unpleasant feeling. Some years ago, Harry recalled comparing it to being forced through a very small and tight rubber tube.

This time though, his mind had barely been on the sensation that always seemed to accompany apparating, instead far more occupied with the Draco’s almost unnaturally cool body, still pressed so tightly against his own. He felt Draco’s hand slowly untangle itself from his hair, and began to gently trail down his face, stroking his cheek; Harry couldn’t help but sigh softly, and lean into the touch.

“I’m impressed Harry” Draco’s voice as soft, as gentle as his touch “Your Apparition skills have improved vastly since I last saw them, not to mention your...accuracy”

Harry glanced up at the blonde, eyes flashing with a mischievous glint, slowly licking his lips. He couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of perverse contentment when he saw the way Draco’s eyes trailed after his tongue, their focus so intense he was shocked there wasn’t a physical force to accompany it. Harry allowed his hand to trail down Draco’s back, appreciating the feel of his skin beneath such soft fabric, moving past his belt and down to Draco’s surprisingly muscular arse, squeezing the flesh ever so slightly, only to repeat the action with more force upon hearing the low moan Draco gave in response.

He smirked up at Draco, enjoying the sounds the blonde had started making, and the sensation of him gently grinding his hips against Harry.

“Guess I really want to be in my bedroom then, don’t I Draco?”

If it were possible for Harry Potter to purr, then he did so at that very moment with a glint in his eyes;  he began to slowly step backwards, pulling the blonde male along with him, maintaining as much bodily contact as was possible, until he felt the backs of his thighs touch the bed.

“Eager, aren’t we...” drawled the blonde, somehow still sounding aristocratic and sarcastic, even in this more intimate setting “Who knew The Saviour was such a sex fiend”

A faint blush arose on Harry’s lightly tanned cheeks, though he couldn’t help but grin up at the teasing male; seeing Draco in such a situation was certainly different, and he couldn’t help but enjoy it. He squeezed Draco’s impressive arse one more time, generating an approving growl from the blonde that seemed to vibrate throughout his entire body, before he slipped his hand into those long blonde locks that seemed to glimmer like pale gold, dragging him down into a rough kiss. It started as a mere clash of tooth and lip, but quickly became something rhythmic and fiery; they battled for dominance for a few short moments, though Harry quickly submitted, allowing the other males tongue to explore his mouth at will, groaning continuously at the sensation. His hands tangled into Draco’s hair, holding him closer, trying to bring their bodies nearer, though it was physically impossible. He felt Draco begin to grind against him again, and arms with more muscle mass than one might expect wrap themselves around his body, holding him close. His mind was filled with nothing but the scent of Draco Malfoy, and the sensation of being kissed so forcefully; all too soon, Draco pulled away, leaving Harry dazed and panting, craving more.

Draco smirked down at Harry, grey eyes stormy, raking over his face and settling on his kiss swollen lips. He unwrapped his arms from around Harry, bring them up and resting them lightly on his shoulders.

“On your knees Potter”

Harry shivered pleasurably at the commanding tone the blonde used, and dropped to his knees immediately. He slowly ran his hands up Draco’s slim yet firm legs, appreciating the feel of them through his smart trousers. When his hands reached Draco’s belt, he carefully undid it, pulling the leather from its loops, then undoing the button and zip on Draco’s exceptionally smart black trousers. Harry paused briefly, nerves suddenly springing forth; he took a deep breath, before grasping the blondes trousers, and pulling them down in one swift move, only to find his eyes met with something he couldn’t help but find exceptionally amusing. Suppressing the urge to laugh, he glanced up at Draco.

“Really?” Harry chuckled slightly, unable to help himself, and grinned at the blonde “Always figured you as a plain black type of guy”

“What can I say” Draco drawled, finding Harry’s reaction equally entertaining “I like dragons”

“Yeah, I can see that” Harry licked his lips, eyes returning to the underwear “I can see something else as well”

Still grinning like a Cheshire cat, Harry slipped his hands into the waistband of Draco’s rather endearing black underwear with a large green cartoon dragon on the front, pulling them down quickly, watching with rapt enthusiasm as Draco’s erect and long cock bounced as his underwear came off. Licking his lips one final time, Harry inched forwards slightly, placing a light kiss directly on the tip, causing Draco to shiver slightly. Gaining a certainly level of satisfaction from his response, Harry began to gently lap at the head, before taking all of the blondes length into his mouth in one move, causing Draco to groan deeply.

Within a few quick moves, Draco divested himself of his remaining clothing, no hard task as it consisted of a simple button up shirt and a jacket, depositing them on the floor with the rest of his clothes; he could have a folding charm deal with them later. For now, he had more important things to focus on, like the satisfied moans that seemed to be flowing continuously from Harry’s mouth, and the intense sensations he was evoking. Harry seemed to know exactly how to give a very efficient blow job, and his unnaturally warm mouth made it all the better. Snaking his hands into Harry’s tangled hair, Draco held his head in place, gentle thrusting in and out of his mouth, gradually building a faster, more forceful pace; all the while, generating increasingly loud sounds from the dark haired man kneeling before him.

When Draco felt himself begin to lose his self control, his orgasm building faster than he’d prefer, he roughly pulled Harry off him, breathing deeply and gazing down at him. Seeing Harry Potter on his knees, mouth covered in saliva; with a dazed look in his emerald green eyes......it gave Draco a rush. A rush that was as much sexual as it was power.

“You’re good at that Harry....very good” Draco eyed him, taking in the almost manhandled appearance of him, and loving it “Had a lot of practise them?”

“Maybe” Harry smirked up at the blonde, licked his lips, savouring the flavour that could only be called uniquely Draco.

Slowly, Harry stood up from his position on the floor, wincing slightly at the discomfort that had developed in his knees. He ran his hands along Draco’s chest, appreciating how soft his skin was, flicking over each delicate nipple in turn, and causing a sharp intake of breath from Draco. Looking into his stormy grey eyes, Harry stood on his tip toes, and kissed the blonde deeply, humming in appreciation when he felt Draco’s arms circle his waist, holding him against his body. After a few minutes, Harry pulled away, grinning devilishly at Draco, a look of pure desire in his eyes.

“Draco.....” Harry adopted an almost coy expression “Shut up and fuck me already”

The blonde grinned back, finding the sudden confidence increase extremely attractive, and a pleasant shock. He gestured at Harry, causing the dark haired males clothes to vanish; given Harry’s apparent eagerness, Draco was in no mood to slowly undress him. Oh, how he loved the simple benefits of magic at times like these. Draco pushed Harry onto the bed, and stood over him for a moment, taking in every bit of the Chosen One’s body. At one stage, he’d been scrawny, but years of Quidditch and now working as an Auror had bulked Harry out, though not to an unpleasant degree. His body was impressively toned, a look that was complimented by the fact that he was still slim, and tanned to an almost natural degree. It was the colouring one got from working in the sun, not from products and other substitute methods. However, Draco found he could not easily draw his eyes away from Harry’s groin, and his impressively sized cock. On another occasion, he would have taken immense pleasure in riding Harry until he covered the dark haired male in cum.

Draco licked his lips, enjoying the sight of Harry sprawled on his back, chest heaving, legs slightly raised and spread....it was like an invitation, an invitation he had every intention of taking full advantage of. Draco knelt on the bed between Harry’s legs, settling into the space with ease. With his usual speed and efficiency, Draco cast a simple lubrication charm on Harry, causing him to gasp at the sensation.

“Shit Draco, that’s cold” Harry exhaled, his breath shuddering, hints of pleasure breaking through “Oooh, that’s.....warming up.....feels good”

The blonde smirked slightly, pleased that his somewhat customized warming lubrication charm had gone down well.

“I wish I could take a little more time to enjoy myself here, but” he grasped Harry’s legs, shifting them further apart, and inching closer, lining himself up with Harry’s entrance “That rather impressive blow job has left me somewhat more worked up than I’d prefer”

“Don’t care” Harry shook his head from side to side, desperation clear “Just fuck me Draco. Hard. Make me cum”

“Hard?” Draco chuckled slightly, leant forward enough to apply some pressure on Harry’s entrance “Who am I to refuse the great Harry Potter such a request?”

Harry’s mouth fell open in shock, a loud, low moan escaping him as Draco thrust into to him in one long, slow move. From there, all coherent thought seemed to fade away, as Draco gave him precisely what he’d asked for.

_xxx_

_Harry found himself standing in a large circular room. It was dimly lit, aside from a faint glow, almost akin to moonlight, yet there was not a crack in the domed ceiling. He looked around the space, noticing the gloomy alcoves that seemed strategically placed around the circular room, and large slabs of rock scattered across the open space. Where they lead, or what was in them, he could not say; each alcove seemed to be pitch-black, as if any form of light would be snuffed out. Harry frowned, and wrapped his arms around himself; it was cold in here, deathly cold, and he had the strangest feeling he’d been here before......yet he couldn’t entirely place it. The area was silent, still, almost seeped in fear and despair._

_Suddenly, the silence was broken by a high pitched laugh coming from his left, a laugh that seemed strangely familiar to him, and was laced with madness. He spun towards the sound.......only to find new additions to the scenery. People in dark hooded cloaks, and more in a somewhat eclectic range of attires, all milling around a large stone arch that seemed to dominate the space, despite not having been there a moment ago. The arched seemed to fill Harry with dread, though his attention was immediately drawn back to the figures when they began throwing hex after hex at each other, whist others seemed to dissolve into pillars of light and shadow, pairing off and chasing each other across the space._

_This whole scene seemed familiar to him, but he still couldn’t place it, until he eyes focused on a female figure perched on a small rise. A figure that appeared to have long dark hair that blew about her with wild abandon. She drew a stick like arm back, wand held delicately in her hand, before thrusting it in front of her, shrieking two words Harry hoped he would never hear again in his life. Time almost seemed to slow as Harry’s eyes locked onto the bolt of green energy that shot from her wand, trailing it to where he seemed to instinctively it would be aimed at the two figures standing by the stone arch, with a third figure sprawled on the ground a little way in front of them. The third was dressed on dark robes, and had long blonde hair that stood out in stark contrast with everything else in the area._

_The bolt struck the taller of the two, a middle aged male. He stumbled, and began to grow faint as wisp like tendrils emanating from the arch latched onto his body, slowly dragging him into the faint rippling surface that seemed to stretch across the arch opening._

_Harry felt a pang in his chest, as he realised at last where he was. The Death Chamber, in the Department of Mysteries. This scene playing out before him was but a memory, the memory of his battle with the Death Eaters, and one of the saddest moments of his life.....the murder of Sirius Black, his godfather and the closest he’d come to a normal family, and by association, his parents._

_Harry watched himself try to pull Sirius back, though he knew it was futile. A moment later, the younger version of himself rushed towards one of the alcoves, intent on tracking down the maniacal woman who’d just fled through it, Bellatrix Lestrange. A tear slid down his cheek, and a sob caught in his throat, threatening to escape._

_“Yes, it was a rather sad day for you, wasn’t it Mr Potter”_

_Harry blinked in shock, and turned towards the source of the voice, to be greeted by a sight that left him feeling mystified. Standing to his right, and just behind him, was a tall figure in a black hooded robe, with subtle silver embroidery running around the hem and the cuffs of the sleeves. The voice gave away the fact that this mystery figure was male; his posture was erect, proud and powerful. In his left hand, he held a large black staff, topped by an ornate red jewel surrounded by an oval comprised of three black strands curving up from the base of the jewel, meeting again at its top._

_Before Harry had the chance to say anything, the world faded to shades of grey and slowly started to change. The scenery started to writhe and shift like a pit of snakes, before rearranging itself. Gone was the perpetual gloom and the arch; now, in its place was something entirely different.  He looked about himself, recognising the dank cavern even after so many years; a wide promenade flanked by serpentine statues, leading to a flat expanse that gradually dipped into a murky pool of water. A pool of water that surrounded a gigantic stone face with wild hair, glaring eyes, and a long forked beard._

_The Chamber of Secrets, the personal domain and lasting legacy of Salazar Slytherin, and on the wet ground before that impassive stone facade was the still form of Ginny Weasley._

_“Killing a Basilisk is no small feat Mr Potter, especially at the tender age of 13. More so when your companions were as......inept as they were”_

_The figure stepped forward, moving towards Ginny’s body with powerful strides accompanied by the metallic clang of his staff striking the ground. His cloak billowed out behind him with each step, more so when the figure abruptly spun on the spot, bringing him face to face with Harry, though there was no face to see, just a dark recess under the hood. The hooded face turned towards the girl on the floor, tilting to the side slightly as if curious._

_“Tell me....” His words flowed through the air effortlessly, echoing in the space. His voice was strong, cultivated “Why does a Wizard with your potential put himself in harm’s way for such chattel?”_

_For a brief moment, his confusion was replaced by a sudden anger. His features hardened, and he clenched his fists in frustration._

_“Because she’s my friend, and she’s my family” Harry glared at the hooded figure, barely suppressing the urge to snort in disgust “And because I’m not an elitist bastard, and actually believe in helping people”_

_“What a quaint thing you are Mr Potter” Harry could almost hear something close to amusement in the figures voice. “Every bit as righteous and foolhardy as one might have thought”_

_“Who the fuck are you?” Harry snarled, hand instinctively going for his wand, only to find it wasn’t there. “Where’s my wand?”_

_The figure merely laughed in response, the sound still strangely melodic and friendly. Slowly, the figure began to fade where he stood, becoming almost translucent, and began to waver, losing its shape. Harry’s eyes grew gradually wider at the transformation, if it could be called that, which took place in front of him; gone was the mysterious hooded figure. In his place, a large spectral bird hovered above the ground, in line with Harry chest. He flinched, and quickly brought a hand to his temple when a searing pain erupted out of nowhere, only to be followed moments later by a voice that seemed to come from everywhere......the voice of the stranger._

_“Pain, misery, regret.....it is all natural, all part of the cycle. We live, we breathe, we fight, we conquer, we eventually expire, yet you feel it more than anyone should.” The voice seemed to be getting louder, resonated around the chamber and his head, to an almost unbearably painful extent “Cast off these foolish notions, except what has come to pass, and live”_

_The voice trailed off, only to be replaced by an ear piercing shriek from the spectral bird. It flapped its wings a few times, as if testing them, before its two glittering red eyes focused on Harry. A faint laugh echoed around the chamber before a string of words Harry could not interpret drifted around the chamber, as if they were the echoes of a whisper._

_“Mors ultima linea rerum est”_

_The bird shrieked once more, and took flight, swooping towards Harry at breakneck speed, appearing to grow more corporeal with each moment. Harry tried to move, but found himself rooted to the spot, unable to move, only able to scream as he felt the creature collide with him, felt its beak pierce his chest....._

_xxx_

Harry shot up in bed, knocking a warm weight off his chest that seemed to make a sound of protest, arm outstretched and words flying from his mouth as if on instinct.

“Reducto!” He was breathless, panting, and his voice shook, yet not enough to prevent him from casting the simple curse with little difficulty. A spark of blue energy formed in the palm of his hand for a second, before streaking across the room. A moment later, a deafening bang rang around the bedroom, shaking furniture and knocking a few items onto the floor as the curse struck something, though Harry did not know what.

Harry took a deep breath, chest still heaving as if he’d run a marathon, and blinked a few times. But found he could distinguish nothing in the perpetual gloom of his bedroom, but, that was the way he’d preferred to sleep for some years now, in the pitch black. As soon as he’d moved into the flat, he’d researched charms that would allow his curtains to act as impenetrable barriers where light was concerned until he chose otherwise. However, that gloomed was banished with little difficulty when a bright white light appeared to his left, seemingly out of nowhere; he shut his eyes as tightly as he could, groaning in discomfort, and raising a hand to cover his eyes even more from the unwanted illumination.

“Out of curiosity Harry, do you always scream in your sleep?” the voice sounded bored, though faintly sarcastic with a streak of annoyance “And destroy parts of your domicile?”

Slowly, Harry began to open his eyes, allowing them to grow accustomed to the light that had sprung from nowhere, and turned to the sound of the voice.

“Umm.....Draco?” Harry’s voice was rough, still blurred through lack of sleep and the sudden awakening.

“Yes, I do believe that is my name” The blonde snorted in response, sarcasm dripping from every word, though there was a faint smile on his thin lips “Unless I’ve managed to sprout red hair and freckles since I was last awake. Spending the rest of my life as a Weasley sounds dreadfully horrific”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh slightly in response, a small smile forming on his lips; somehow, the corrosive nature of Draco Malfoy was very calming after a dream involving some of the harder points in his life. It was the blondes near inability to lose his cool, and the constant sense of superiority, it was strangely grounding.

“Yeah, think I’d throw up with Ron in bed with me” Harry shook his head slightly, smile growing larger “That would give me nightmares for months”

“On that point, we seem to agree” Draco rolled his neck a few times, the movement generating small cracking sounds “Now, you never answered my question. Screaming and destroying things....is this a normal nightly activity for Harry Potter?”

Harry frowned, but looked around the room none the less, only to find his eyes locking onto his bedroom door. At least what little was left of it; just a few pieces of wood hanging off the hinges, whilst the rest seemed to have been blown into the rest of the apartment. He sighed heavily, and slumped back in the bed, running his hand through his wild black hair, an action that only made it stand on end more than it normally did; it was almost a globally excepted fact that his hair always had the distinct ‘bed hair’ look to it.

“Oh sod it”

Draco raised one delicate blonde eyebrow in response, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips yet again; there was something oddly endearing about the Chosen One’s apparent lack of eloquence, and look of pure embarrassment.

“I shall take that as a yes then” There was a slight teasing note to his voice, with all the usual sarcasm “May I ask why you felt the need to obliterate your door?”

“Umm...Nightmare....” Harry couldn’t help but blush, and feel vaguely embarrassed over the whole thing “I have them a lot. Used to have them before the war, and they just continued after; it’s not every night....just most nights”

“I’m sorry” Draco couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for the dark haired male, after all, he’d had his fair share of nightmares after become a Death Eater. Being in company of people that dark....that _sick_ , left a mark “I have a vague notion of what that’s like”

“Thanks Draco” Harry’s voice was weary, though held a slight note of trepidation “I appreciate it”

In response, the blonde simply grasped Harry’s hand, squeezing it briefly, before returning his hand to his chest, lacing his fingers together. After that, they lapsed into a comfortable silence, each occupied with their own thoughts.

Harry glanced over the blonde, mind still reeling with the changes Draco seemed to have displayed over their very brief time together. Once upon a time, Draco would have taunted him for suffering from nightmares, yet now he was offering sympathy, even understanding. He’d changed, and certainly for the better. Looking at him laying in the light, Harry’s mind couldn’t help but wonder slightly. Draco had always been an attractive guy, but he seemed even more so now. Slim, lightly toned torso, skin as pale and delicate looking as the snow, with two faint scars running across him; the result of the sectumsempra curse. The only other visible blemish on his body was the now faint mark left from Voldemort’s branding, the Dark Mark, a skull surrounded by a serpent. His pale blonde hair was spread about his head like a mane, and seemed to almost glow in the light; he looked ethereal, beautiful....

At this, Harry felt his cheeks heat up, with what was no doubt a very obvious blush. Describing Draco Malfoy as beautiful? It just didn’t seem appropriate, yet in a strange way, it was.

He blinked once or twice, trying to shift his mind from this particular course; he did not want to be thinking of Draco that way. They weren’t even friends, not really, they’d only had sex. Nothing else. Trying to focus on something else, Harry looked up, towards the source of the unnecessarily bright light, recognising the little ball of energy as a charm; no doubt some variant of _lumos_. From there, his eyes travelled to the shattered remains of his door yet again, and a few other minor knickknacks that had been knocked over by the concussive blast. He sighed, the thought of actually clearing up not appealing to him in the slightest, but it had to be done. Wouldn’t do to have things in such a mess.

“Guess I should clean this mess up” he sighed again, and made no effort to move from his bed. It was just too comfortable, and the dream had left him feeling worn to the bone, not to mention shaken.

“Forget it, I’ll do it” Draco grunted slightly, and waved his hand nonchalantly, causing the door to start reassembling itself, and causing numerous smaller objects to begin flying around the room, settling themselves back in their original places.

Harry blinked in surprise, finding himself shocked yet again. Now Draco was fixing things, and tidying up; it was all very strange, and seemed to get stranger by the minute.

“Um...thanks, you didn’t have to do that” Harry felt another blush creep upon his cheeks, it felt so odd to see Draco doing little things like that, it just wasn’t like the arrogant Slytherin he’d grown up hating.

“It was nothing. Really. I was always a little better at charms anyway” Draco smirked across at the mop haired Harry “Now, I do believe it’s time to get back to sleep. And this time, try not to throw me off when I’m comfortable”

“When you’re comfortable? What do you....oh” Harry trailed off, when he recalled briefly noticing that something large and warm had been on him when he’d woken from his dream. Had that been Draco? “Draco....Were you laying on me?”

The blonde hummed an affirmative in response, and shifted in the bed until he was resting on his side, head on Harry’s shoulder with an arm resting over his torso. Harry tensed slightly at the initial contact, but very quickly relaxed into it. The closeness, the simple sensation of having someone close to him was just what he needed, especially after one of the nightmares that still plagued him.

“Believe it or not Harry, you’re actually very comfortable” Draco’s hand began to wander slightly, shifting over Harry’s defined stomach, travelling up to his chest, before pinching a nipple, causing Harry to squeal slightly “Now, back to sleep. And try not to blow anything else up”

“Ummm, right. Night Draco” Harry stuttered in response, feeling flustered at the casual touch, and having his old school rival tucked rather comfortably against him.

A moment later, the light seemed to extinguish itself of its own accord; Harry shut his eyes, drifting off into a thankfully dreamless sleep faster than he ever had before, feeling strangely comfortable with the warm weight of a certain blonde male lying across him.

_xxx_

Whilst it took Harry a mere matter of moments to drift off, it took Draco much longer. His mind kept going back to Harry, and the look of complete and utter terror on his face when he’d awoken from the nightmare. He looked so pale, sweat cascading down his forehead, black hair plastered to his face; Draco had never seen him that way before, and fervently wished he never would again. Whatever was in his head had apparently shaken the saviour of the wizarding world to the core, and whatever that was, Draco did not want to experience.

Though, he’d had his fair share of horrific dreams. He’d dreamt of death, destruction, oceans of blood....all courtesy of a certain Dark Lord.

He felt an odd sensation in his chest, a strange non physical pain that set his heart beating like mad. Draco frowned, inhaling the scent of the dark haired male he was currently using as a pillow, only to find it settled him down slightly. Was this feeling.....worry? Was he worried about the precious Chosen One, who he’d until recently not seen in a number of years?

It was an unsettling thought.

_xxx_

Harry awoke slowly, eyes fluttering open gradually. He breathed in deeply, eyes roving around his still dark bedroom, focusing in on the digital display of the muggle clock he kept by the bed.

11:30am.

Perhaps a little later than he’d normally aim for, but a fair enough time to wake up on a weekend, especially after a night out drinking, and doing other things; then again, he’d always had some trouble arriving to his classes on time at Hogwarts, particularly the first ones of the day. Feeling a slight shift at his side, his mind drifted back to Draco, who was still sprawled out across him; apparently, he really was very comfortable.

As gently as he could, Harry moved his free arm out of the bed and gestured slightly at the curtains, shutting the anti-light charm down and allowing the warm glow from the November sun into the room. Whilst it was by no means as bright as it would be during the English summer, it was bright enough to banish any shadows from the room. Glancing down at the bed, Harry now found he had a new challenge to contend with: how to untangle himself from a sleeping Draco Malfoy.

A sleeping Draco Malfoy who happened to look extremely peaceful and utterly adorable.......and yet again, Harry found himself thinking of the blonde in ways that just didn’t seem remotely plausible. But, the more he looked at him, the more Harry simply could not escape the fact that Draco really did look extremely cute curled into his chest, hugging him as if he were a Harry shaped teddy bear.

A Harry shaped teddy bear....The dark haired male couldn’t help but snort in amusement at that thought; no doubt many people in the Wizarding community would jump at the idea of producing such a range of toys; Harry Potter shaped teddies, and no doubt dolls, or ‘action figures’ for the more masculine minded. Probably be charmed to cast little spells, or fly around on a little broomstick, maybe come with different outfits as well. Harry grinned, and shook his head. The thought was completely ridiculous, and worryingly plausible with the way some people behaved. His mind had just flicked to the possibility of little witches dressing him in pretty pink floral dresses and having make believe tea parties with their Harry-bears and Harry-dolls when he was brought out of his thoughts me a smooth and cultured voice, that seemed to have developed a certain ability to make him blush. Or perhaps it was just Draco’s sense of timing.

“You know Harry, in some circles it’s considered impolite to stare at people when they’re sleeping” Draco drawled, sarcasm present even when he was still slightly groggy with sleep “Perverse, even”

Harry felt his blush deepen to what was no doubt a very noticeable crimson at being caught in such an act, though he was exceptionally thankful that Draco had yet to look up.

“Yeah, sorry about that Draco. It’s just....you looked...” He began to stutter slightly, his words tumbling forth with no real sense or cohesion; suddenly, he felt the unmistakable urge to hide, preferably somewhere that the blonde male was not.

The blonde chuckled slightly in response, the sound warm and rich, awakening a certain thought deep within Harry’s mind. For some reason, Harry found himself regretting the fact that he hadn’t heard the sound during their time at Hogwarts. Draco rolled to the side, off of Harry, and propped himself up in the bed, back resting against the headboard. A completely naturally thing to do, if not for the fact that it left his entire torso on display, and Harry simply couldn’t help but stare at the expanse of bare skin and slight muscle definition. His emerald eyes travelled up the pale skin, taking note of the steady rise and fall, the erect nipples that stood out so drastically and teasingly. His eyes briefly flicked over the faded mark on Draco’s arm, the Dark Mark, but quickly travelled on. It didn’t bother him. He continued his journey all the way up to his delicate neck and then onto the smirk and silver eyes that seemed so smug, yet amused at the same time. For what felt like the hundredth time, Harry fund himself blushing from a simple glance from the blonde, or in this case a very knowing smirk.

“I looked what? Hmm, perhaps I can help you a little Harry” his words came out in a gentle purr, all teasing and smug at the same time “Handsome? Ravishing? Devastatingly sexy?  Any of those help you?”

Harry barked a short laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a grin.

“Are you always such an insufferable bastard?”

“Oh yes, every day of my life. I go to great lengths to ensure people realise it” The blonde grinned at Harry, the both of them unable to hide their amusement “Now, tell me, do you have any coffee about this place of yours? Preferably fresh, none of that instant muggle shit”

With another laugh threatening to erupt from him, Harry slid out of his bed, briefly considering whether or not it was worth putting any clothes on, but instead settling on dealing with the not so difficult task of getting coffee in the nude.

“I only drink freshly ground coffee Draco, and I wouldn’t be able to operate without it” Harry paused by the door, his fixed door, and glanced back at the bed and Draco “How do you take it?”

“With cream and a small pinch of brown sugar. If you’re lacking the cream, then black with sugar will suffice” Draco smiled sweetly at Harry, or at least his interpretation of sweetly, grey eyes not so subtly travelling up and down the naked body in front of him, paying particular attention to Harry’s groin.

“Yes sir, whatever Master Draco wants” Harry bowed his head slightly, gave a mock salute, words dripping with friendly sarcasm, before he turned on his heel, and made his way to his rather modest kitchen, all the while trying to fight off the urge to blush at the heat and intensity from the blondes gaze. He was not accustomed to people so obviously checking him out; he wasn’t exactly self conscious, he just didn’t view himself as especially attractive. Though Draco’s enthusiasm should have done something to dispel that particular thought.

_xxx_

During Harry’s absence, Draco took the time to look at the room he’d spent the night in; he’d been a little too occupied last night to pay any attention to it, more focused on the male in question. Now he fully took it in, the room wasn’t exactly what he’d have thought The Saviour, The Magnificent Harry Potter would have gone for, not that he’d exactly known him well. Whilst it may not have been his style of decor, Draco did think the bedroom was decorated in a tasteful fashion: there was a feature wall in a dark chocolate brown, whilst the other walls were painted a light, almost coffee coloured shade of brown. The curtains that covered the rooms only window, and a large window at that, were striped and in the same shades as the walls, whilst the black, almost gothic curtain rails added a sense of style. To compliment this, it appeared that Harry had selected a bed frame to match, metal with a black coating in the same gothic style. Aside from that there didn’t seem to be much else to see; a few sets of chest-of-drawers with Hogwarts and Quidditch memorabilia littered on top, and what appeared to be a large wardrobe. At least he’d expanded his clothing range, Draco thought, and was getting closer to being stylish, though he could have done with some tighter jeans. In Draco’s not so humble opinion at the very least.

Other than that, the room seemed almost sparse.

Draco’s eyes quickly flicked back to the door when he heard Harry return, with a small trey levitating in his wake. He couldn’t help but run his tongue over his lips, as he watched the dark haired male walk into the bedroom, still entirely naked. What Draco had very quickly come to realise was that whilst Harry had always been attractive, he was even more so once you removed the awful clothes he seemed to wear; ill fitting jeans and baggy shirts.

Before he could become too distracted with the thoughts of Harry in tight clothes, the man in question slid back into bed, the trey following him. Draco couldn’t help but smile slightly when the trey sprouted four legs, stretched itself to the width of the bed, and settled over their laps.

“How inventive” Draco commented dryly, somewhat shocked to see Harry with such a domestic item.

“Gift from Molly a few years ago” The dark haired male responded quietly whilst carefully picking up the large white mug he’d served his coffee in; now he came to think of it, he hadn’t spent any time at The Burrow lately, barely seen his unofficial family.

“Hmm, Molly?” Draco frowned slightly, before finally associating the name with someone in Harry’s life, who’d be inclined to give someone something like an expanding, enchanted serving tray as a gift “Of course, the Weasley Matriarch. Yes, this is the kind of....unique gift one might expect from them”

“So, Draco, what do you do with yourself these days?” Harry asked as quickly as possible, feeling the sudden urge to move things away from the Weasleys; whenever they came up in conversation he starting feeling incredibly guilty for not having seen them, or made much effort to contact them lately “Umm, do you work at all....?”

The blonde picked his coffee mug up, taking a few moments to consider his answer, the sudden change of topic not going unnoticed. He took a sip of the light brown liquid, humming slightly in appreciate of the flavour; not only had Harry gotten the cream and sugar quantities correct, he also seemed to have a good quality coffee bean in the apartment. The Boy Who Lived was full of surprises.

“Well, I don’t work as of yet. As I’m sure you can imagine, there are very few in the Wizarding community who are willing to employ someone with the ‘Malfoy’ name” the blonde took another sip of coffee, briefly shutting his eyes in something close to pleasure “So, I spend my time in Malfoy Manor. Studying potions, alchemical formulae.....researching a few magical artifacts; things that the Malfoy’s have collected over the generations”

Whilst Draco had always been good at controlling his emotions, and maintaining a careful mask, Harry didn’t miss the traces of anger and frustration in his voice, as well as something he couldn’t quite place. It almost sounded like regret, with a hint of sorrow, but Harry simply could not be certain.

“Are you alone there?” Harry swallowed, and quickly felt the need to say something else, given the incredulous look he was currently receiving from Draco “It’s just....It’d be a shame if you were on your own”

“Yes, I live alone; aside from a number of House Elves who’ve chosen to remain. When Father was imprisoned at the end of the war, Mother left the country. Too many bad memories, she said. She’s currently living in one of our properties in Italy” His grip on the mug tightened, whilst his jaw visibly clenched “I chose to remain at the Manor”

Harry’s heart seemed to drop upon hearing this. Whatever Draco may have done in the war, and done with very good reason in his opinion, there was just something about knowing that the blonde spent all his time alone in a place the size of Malfoy Manor that made him feel intensely sad. People had always told him he was too empathetic, perhaps this was one of those occasions.

“Oh....” Harry paused, unable to help feeling torn between sympathy for the blonde, and confusion as to why he was responding like this “What about friends? People from Hogwarts?”

“ _Friends?_ ” Draco said the word as it were in a foreign language, or at least one he wasn’t well versed in, and snorted in derision “I didn’t have friends. Just moronic hangers on, all angling for the next great Pure Blood family alliance. After the war, all my so called _friends_ did their best to separate themselves from me, far be it for them to be tarnished by simple association. Well, more so than they have been already. Don’t forget, most of my so called ‘friends’ were the sons and daughters of prominent Death Eaters. The less contact they have with others in that situation, the better they look in the long run”

“I’m so sorry Draco, it must be awful” Again, Harry felt his heart plummet. The blonde sounded so alone, and it was something he could relate to, to a degree at least “I kind of get what you mean....”

“I require neither your sympathy, nor your understanding thank you very much” Draco all but snarled in response, cutting the other man off before he could finish “My life may not be perfect, but it will suffice. It was my choice; I could run from my past, or stay and the fate of the Malfoys. I simply did what was best for the family”

Within a matter of moments, the old anger and frustration rushed through Harry, as if someone had opened a dam, releasing all the things he’d pushed aside; he simply could not understand why the blonde had reacted with such hostility. In this moment, the person sitting next to him in bed was not _Draco_ , not the person he’d drank with, but _Malfoy_ , the bastard would be Slytherin royal who’d done his damndest to make his time at Hogwarts a living hell. However, before he had a chance to snap back at the blonde man, a shrill screech echoed around the apartment, a small security ward he’d placed on his fireplace t alert him to any unexpected visitors via the floo system, quickly followed by two voices; one shouting, the other opting for a more subdued volume.

“Harry James Potter! Get out here this minute, and stop avoiding us!” The first voice, belonging to a female, echoed around the apartment with ease, sounding somewhere between concerned and extremely pissed off.

“Come on....can we go? He’ll talk when he’s ready” The second voice, male, spoke in a much calmer tone, and at a much lower volume “Anyway, aren’t you always the one telling _me_ to be polite? Yet you floo into someone else’s flat without even asking beforehand!”

“Oh, do be quiet Ronald. I’ve had enough of this ridiculous behaviour!”

“Hermione....Please, just calm down”

Wandlessly, and wordlessly, Harry cast a silencing charm on his bedroom, and gestured at the bedroom door, causing it to shut. With another wave of his hand, the enchanted serving tray vanished, along with the mug in his hand, and the one Draco had clenched between both hands. He started running his hands through his mass of wild hair, eyes wide in panic, skin strangely pale.

“Shit shit shit shit shit” Harry slid out of the bed, still naked and cursing, and began to rummage around one of the drawers closest to the door, seemingly desperate to find something “Oh, sod it....where did I put that fucking thing......”

After a few moments of fruitless searching he stepped away from the chest-of-drawers, slamming the drawer back in out of frustration. His eyes began to wildly rove around his room, before finally settling on Draco, who was still propped up in bed, and looking mildly amused at the strange turn of events, though primarily confused and somewhat irrated.

“So, care to tell me exactly what’s going on? And who you’re so desperate to hide from?” The blondes sarcastic drawl did nothing to settle him, but it did give him something else to focus on, if even for a moment.

“It’s Hermione” He gestured wildly at the door, still completely oblivious to his lack of clothing “And Ron”

Draco quirked one delicate blonde eyebrow up in response.

“Granger the know it all, and The Weasel himself. I’d be inclined to avoid them as well, especially this early in the day. Dealing with the world’s only human shaped dictionary and the ginger haired halfwit is not my idea of a Saturday morning”

Draco was vaguely shocked when Harry did nothing to defend his friends, and merely sighed in response. Once upon a time, any insult directed at any member of the ‘Golden Trio’, as they’d been known, would have sparked a somewhat violent response from the other members. Evidently, the dynamics had changed slightly.

“I love them both, I really do” Harry’s voice was quiet, steady, almost remorseful “I just find it hard being around them at the moment. I’ve kind of been avoiding them”

Draco simply frowned in response. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to know exactly why Harry felt like this, but it wasn’t his place to ask. He settled instead for a small nod, shifting his curiosity aside for another time.

“Look, I’ll explain some other time Draco, I promise” Harry glanced at the door again, and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly “For now though, I kind of need your help”

“My help?” Draco’s frown deepened, as he gave Harry an incredulous look “What exactly could I do to help you avoid your friends?”

“Just.....” Harry ran a hand through his hair yet again, desperation creeping into his voice and actions “Just lie to them, insult them. Be as _Slytherin_ as you can be”

Draco narrowed his eyes for a few moments, mind slowly ticking over strange turn of events. Looking at Harry, at the way he paced the length of the bedroom like a caged animal, desperation so clear in his emerald green eyes, he found there was only one thing he could say, only one answer to give. Of course, on some small level, this did appeal to his inner Slytherin; the opportunity to scheme so rarely presented itself these days, and Draco simply couldn’t help the small hint of excitement that had crept into his mind.

“Of course Harry, I shall do what I can”

The dark haired male smiled slightly, feeling somewhat relieved. He made his way to the edge of the bed, and sat down on the end, legs crossed, facing Draco.

“I need you to go out there and tell them Harry isn’t here” Harry spoke slowly, making sure to articulate every word, all the while his emerald eyes seemed to bore into Draco’s “And my name is Marely”

“Your name is...? I don’t entirely understand what you.......Oh” Draco trailed off, pieces clicking into place as he watched what was happening at the end of the bed “When did you learn to do that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, I like to hear what people think, so feel free to leave a little review :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we finally find out who Marely is ;)  
> Once again, a thank you to everyone who's taken notice of this story, be it through kudos, comments or bookmarks. Thank you all, it's what makes this worthwhile :)

_“Your name is...? I don’t entirely understand what you.......Oh” Draco trailed off, pieces clicking into place as he watched what was happening at the end of the bed “When did you learn to do that?”_

Draco had always been raised to maintain a certain level of emotional control, and physical poise; it was as much a case of genetic pride, as it was a societal demand. The rest of the world was below him, unworthy of his attention, because he was a Malfoy; and Malfoy’s were, by nature, calculating and elegant, controlled and always graceful, and never showed the outside world their emotions. They were, for lack of a better term, the closest thing to royalty to exist in the wizarding world. So he’d been taught, at least.

Whilst he’d come to dismiss most of this as the self-aggrandising bullshit spewed by blood purists like his father, and his aunt, and all the others that were drawn in by Voldemort’s ravings, he’d  been grateful for some of the things he’d been taught, and this was certainly one of those moments. Knowing how to control oneself, and maintain a calm exterior had certain advantages, particularly when suddenly thrust into a scheme to hide none other than Harry Potter from the ‘Golden Trio’, or Duo in this case; even more so when it seemed Harry had learnt a few new magical skills. One of which Harry had just chose to demonstrate.

Whilst Draco would never admit it, he couldn’t help but feel a certain level of admiration for what Harry had achieved. From what he’d read, and remembered from the theoretical lessons at Hogwarts, not to mention McGonagall’s endless droning, it took great training and dedication to acquire the skill, not to mention the fact that anyone undergoing the process had to spend a month with a Mandrake’s leaf in their mouth; but, Draco thought, that was the price of becoming an Animagus. What did leave Draco puzzled though, was as to why Harry had put the time into it in the first place; to the best of his knowledge, there was little practical application for it, though there was a possibility of it aiding in some of his Auror duties. What better way to go undercover than as an animal?

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, unable to deny the fact that Harry made a pretty cute dog; albeit, a big shaggy one. Though, given the state of his hair on a daily basis, it was no shock that the animal alternative was just as messy. Thick, dark brown fur covered his entire body, covering his eyes, and giving him the general look of a fur pile that had sprouted equally furry legs.      

 He shut his eyes briefly, and took a breath, before grinning at Harry, or _Marely_ , as he seemed to like being called.

“You can answer that later. When you can talk, instead of.....panting constantly” Draco ran a hand through his hair, patting it slightly and tucking it into place, even though he’d use a simple charm on it later “You really are just full of surprises aren’t you?”

The response Draco received came in the form of what he assumed was a happy bark, though the ferociously wagging bushy brown tail made the emotion obvious. Demonstrating a shocking level of speed, Dog Harry, _Marely_ , half charged across the bed, planting large hairy paws on Draco’s shoulders, and forced him back against the headboard, holding him in place, tail still wagging excessively.

“Harry!” Draco gasped in shock, and a small amount of displeasure “What do you think you’re doing?”

His answer came when a large fur covered dogs head lowered itself towards his own, and began licking his face with unrivalled enthusiasm, before the same attention was paid to one of Draco’s ears. The blonde shivered in revulsion and squawked when he felt the dogs tongue making its way into his ear; much to the blonde’s relief, the treatment only lasted for half a minute. With another happy bark, Marely jumped off the bed, landing with as much grace as a troll, and sat on the floor, looking up at Draco, tail still thrashing back and forth like an oversized garden implement.

“Merlin’s balls.....” Draco shivered, a wave of revulsion washing through his body; he could feel saliva on his face, in his ear, and he did not like it “You even have dog breath.....”

_xxx_

Once Draco had succeeded in wiping the dog saliva from his face, it didn’t take him long to get dressed and straighten himself out suitably to be seen by members of the public, even if those members happened to be two people he’d had the displeasure of going to school with. Fucking Harry Potter and finding himself enjoying the other male’s company was one thing, but liking and tolerating his friends was quite another, especially when those friends were a Weasely, and the no it all Granger. Draco always took a small amount of pleasure in recalling the time Snape pointed this particular trait of hers out, in front of the entire class no less; the memory still had a way of making him laugh.

A small sigh passed through his lips, as he once more looked at his reflection in the body length mirror he’d conjured. Blonde hair tied back into a ponytail, dark red shirt tucked into his black trousers, with the top few buttons left undone, slightly revealing the pale skin beneath; for now, he kept his jacket draped over his shoulders, similar in style to the males of Renaissance Italy. The blonde frowned slightly, upon seeing a number of wrinkles in his shirt, no doubt the result of spending the night piled in a corner with Harry’s clothes. His brow creased further, unhappy that he’d dropped them so carelessly. Hardly something he would have normally done, but he’d had other things on his mind that night, namely what to do with a rather submissive and sexy Harry Potter.

A particularly vocal Harry Potter, for that matter.

Shaking his head slightly, trying to dismiss those thoughts, he pulled his wand from an inside pocket of his jacket, elegantly waving it up and down his body, leaving a trail of faint green light as it went; a simple spell designed to remove wrinkles and marks from clothes, and one of his personal favourites. Once he was satisfied, he dismissed the mirror, and tucked his wand away in the pocket, a smug grin appearing on his face. The pocket was a small alteration he’d had made, allowing him to discretely carry his wand around the Wizard and Muggle worlds. The pocket had a small charm on it, making it nearly indistinguishable from the rest of the jackets lining, and removed the sensation of a length of hard wood pressed against his side.

Of course, this little design alteration had nothing on the flair and sense of ostentatious entitlement that came with the ornate cane his Father kept his own wand in, but Draco was more than content with a variety of hidden pockets. He liked to look good, and unfortunately for his Father, Draco couldn’t help but feel the cane made him look like a self entirely wanker, which Lucius Malfoy more or less was.

Draco spun on his heel, coat flaring out behind him, and faced his companion, who’d been watching him get dressed the entire time. Needless to say, being watched by a wizard who’d taken on the form of a dog was slightly off putting, but Draco gave no indication of his discomfort, instead hiding it all behind the calm mask that the world knew as ‘Malfoy’.

“So then... _Marely_ ” a sly smile crossed the blondes features “Shall we greet your guests?”

If the now still tail, and the look of general displeasure on the dogs face was anything to go by, he was not looking forward to it. With a small chuckle, Draco strode towards the bedroom door, grasped the handle, and turned.

_xxx_

The moment Draco opened the door; the silencing ward was dispelled, letting outside sound filter in once more. Much to his displeasure, he could still hear voices coming from the living area, though they were at least subdued now, a barely audible whisper. A slight sneer twisted his features, apparently he would be forced to endure the company of the Weasel and the mousey haired female. However, he’d given his word, and his pride would not allow him to back out of it.

“Damn you Harry Potter” The blonde whispered, just loud enough for his canine companion to hear “You better have a suitable repayment in store for this favour”

The blondes eyes widened momentarily at the look he seemed to get from Marely. If he wasn’t mistaken, he’d have sworn to the Sorting Hat itself that the damn dog had just given him a lascivious look. He shook his head, concluding that was entirely impossible, dogs did not look at people that way. Of course, this was an animagus in dog form.  

 Snorting to himself, Draco strode out into the hallway and towards the living room, still unable to shake the feeling, but masking it with true Malfoy control, the dog close on his heel, though the four legged animal stopped just short of the room, remaining in the hall, as if waiting. The moment he entered the main living space, time almost seemed to stand still for the briefest of moments. The two other occupants looked at him, eyes wide with shock, mouths gaping, whatever conversation they’d been having had come to an abrupt end. In response to their somewhat aghast looks, Draco merely raised one delicate eyebrow in their direction, eyes cold, dismissive. In the same moment, Draco took the chance to examine the room, at least partially. The visiting pair sat across from each other at a small table situated under a window, overlooking the streets below. The blonde wished he’d had a little more time to study the room, but the silence was broken by a certain ginger haired wizard, known for emotional outburst.

“Malfoy...What the fuck are you doing here?!” Ron was the first to move, springing up from the plain dining chair with an impressive level of speed, hand reaching for his wand immediately “If you’ve done something to Harry, I swear I’ll hex you into oblivion you slimy git”

“Watch what you say when you address your betters Weasely” The blonde snapped in response, voice cold and laced with disdain, thin lips curled into a sneer “Perhaps I should ask you the same. What are _you_ doing arriving unannounced in another individual’s home?”

Draco did his best to suppress the laugh that was threatening to escape; he could almost see The Weasel growing redder by the moment. He wouldn’t have been shocked if the red head soon had steam coming from his ears and mouth, as if he’d eaten a number of Pepper Imps. In Draco’s mind, it was like watching a primitive creature puff itself up in a show of anger and dominance, yet it did nothing but make the ginger haired wizard look ridiculous, something he’d been achieving for years on a daily basis anyway.

“You pompous fucking prick” Ron’s vice shook with anger, as did the rest of his body, the usual outcome whenever he found himself around Draco. He began digging around in his pocket, trying to withdraw his wand, but found himself unable to fully concentrate under the amused glare of the Slytherin standing across the room.

“So nice to see your brain operating at full capacity this morning Weasely. You’ve managed to form coherent words, instead of unintelligible grunts. I’m astounded, truly” Draco drawled, taking a perverse pleasure in baiting the other wizard, voice resonating around the room with a sickly sweet lilt “My compliments Granger, you’ve finally educated him. Is he house trained yet?”

“Oh, that’s quite enough, the both of you” It was at this moment that Hermione chose to intervene, having grown somewhat tired of the childish antics; her voice was hard, authoritative, she’d have made an intimidating Professor at Hogwarts “Ronald, sit down and be quiet. The more you respond, the more he’ll do it”

“But...but....Hermione” Ron was almost begging, something Draco couldn’t help but find amusing. He chuckled, and received a glare from the ginger wizard in response, who’d started gesticulating in his direction wildly.

“Please, Ron” Her voice softened, sounding more loving than the harsh disciplinarian she’d appeared a mere moment ago “We’re here to see Harry, not reignite old rivalries”

He simply nodded in response, the fight seeming to have left him, and slumped back down in his chair. Now satisfied, Hermione turned to Draco, arms folded across her chest, a cautious look on her face.

“Malfoy” Her voice was measured, civil “What are you doing here?”

Before Draco could response, his attention was drawn to the dog, which’d chosen this moment to enter the room and seemed to capture everyone’s attention with very little difficulty, in a fashion that seemed to lack all sense of grace. Not that is shocked Draco in the slightest, it only made sense that Harry’s animagus form would be as prone to clumsy behaviour as he himself was. However, Draco couldn’t help but see Harry’s clumsy nature as rather endearing, even cute.

 Marely bounded into the room, pushing his way past Draco’s legs, tail high in the air, tongue hanging out his mouth in a show of pure pleasure, eyes fixed on Hermione and Ron. The dog approached Hermione briefly, before rushing over to Ron, front paws planted firmly on the red heads knees. Ron grinned immediately, and started rubbing Marely’s ears, before letting his hands trail down to the dogs neck, gently rubbing and scratching the soft fur, an expression that could only be called soppy plastered across his slightly pale, lightly freckled face.

Shaking her head in mild bewilderment, brown hair moving at the same time, Hermione turned her attention back to Draco, smiling slightly at the expression on the blondes face; somewhere between abject shock and dismay, with a hint of amusement.

“So, Malfoy, what are you doing in Harry’s apartment?”Whilst the young Witch was feeling much calmer than she had on arrival, there was still a tense note to her voice “It’s a bit....odd, you’ve got to admit”

Draco’s face remained impassive, silver eyes boring into Hermione’s brown ones with the intensity he was known for.

“Well, Granger, whilst that is not any of your business, I shall do what I can to allay whatever concerns you may have” Now dealing with someone he considered at least mentally capable, Draco maintained a cordial, though certainly not friendly, tone “I ran into him last night at a bar. We drank; spoke for a while, then....”

The blonde paused briefly, considering exactly how much he should tell them. Given the sheer level of shrieking the Witch had done when she’d arrived, he was inclined to keep certain details to himself. Like the fact that he’d spent the night fucking Harry senseless. Unlike the reception he received from his Slytherin housemates, the Golden Trio had never seemed fractured because of Harry’s sexuality; though sleeping with a Malfoy might cause him more trouble than he was already in.

“Then he was gracious enough to offer me another drink here, and a place to sleep for the night” Draco smirked over at the brunette Witch, a hint of amusement entering his otherwise controlled and cold voice “So, you can reassure your _partner_ that your precious Potter came to no harm whilst in my company. I didn’t do anything to him”

Draco smirked slightly, mentally amending his sentence. After all, he’d only done what Harry and all but begged him to do.

Hermione arched an eyebrow in response, and seemed to consider the blondes words. She tilted her head to the side, fixing Draco with a penetrating stare of her own.

“Can we see him?” Still her voice remained measured, calm.

“He’s not here. He received an Owl from the Ministry early this morning. Some kind of official business I assume” Draco slipped his hands behind his back, clasping them together and standing straighter “I slept for a few more hours and, well, now we find ourselves here”

A sad smile appeared on the mousy haired witches face, and she turned to look at the man she’d fallen in love with, who was now crouching on the floor, giving Marely a very in depth tummy rub. The canine seemed to have completely relaxed, legs loose and in the air, a sign of complete comfort. Draco’s smirk seemed to grow larger, laughing internally; if only the Weasel knew he was giving his best friend, his best _male friend_ for that matter, such intimate attention. He’d probably have a heart attack if he figured it out. But, that relied on a level of intellect he simply did not possess, in Draco’s opinion at any rate.

They stood in a strange awkward silence for a few minutes, neither knowing what else they could say, or should say; they simply stood staring at Ron, who was still fussing the dog. After a while, Hermione’s eyes began to wander around Harry’s living room, focusing on small details here and there; a section of wall where the colour had started to fade, the cluttered shelving unit close to the front door, and a lone cushioned chair tucked into a corner, next to a small table, and a lamp. The table had a pile of five books on it, hastily stacked, and covered in a light sheen of dust. She slowly walked across the room, and lightly ran he fingers across the top book, picked it up, peering at the spine, two pairs of eyes following her intently; one set grey, sometimes silver, the other vibrant green and belonging to Marely.

“ _Animagi : In Theory and Practice_ ” Hermione said the words softly, though two others heard her clearly one human, the other currently masquerading as a dog; she frowned, placed the book back on the table, and quickly examined each of the others “Huh, all on becoming an Animagus,  and what determines the form.....” She turned sharply on her heel, eyes fixed on Ron, and the dog, a deep frown creasing her brow.

Draco’s breath caught in his throat, almost immediately developing a suspicion as to what it was the brunette Witches impressive mind had hit upon; she was so renowned for her startling leaps of logic that he didn’t need to use any of his legilimency skills to grasp what her mind was ticking towards. Had she really worked out what Harry had been working on, just from a few carelessly placed books?

The blonde took a subtle breath, schooling his expression and tone into the perfect representation of boredom, with his ever present underlying trace of sarcasm.

“Well, whilst I do so enjoy your company, I do believe it’s time for me to leave, and” his words became clipped, pointed “I recommend you both do the same. I suspect this urgent Ministry will not be quick, and you both probably have far more productive things to do with your Saturday than sit inside your friend’s apartment, waiting for him to return”

“As much as I hate agreeing with Malfoy, he’s right” Ron stood up slowly, taking a breath, every fibre of his being noticeably screaming the fact that he despised agreeing with blonde “Harry’s not here Mione, we should go, maybe leave a note? Or wait for him to contact us, like I said earlier”

The witch glanced at Draco, an intense, almost searching aspect to her eyes. Her eyes narrowed momentarily, before flicking back to Ron, then down to the floor, down to Marely. Under her intense gaze, the dog’s tail stopped moving, a low sad sound emanating from his throat. Looking almost defeated, the shaggy brown dog trotted over to Draco and settled behind the blonde’s legs, as if seeking protection.

“No Ron, no note.....I think Harry’s here. Has been here the entire time” Her frown seemed to deepen, and her voice took on the lecturing quality she’d become so famous for at Hogwarts “It’s impressive, really. Probably learning and practising in secret, without any assistance. But, The Marauders did it, and Harry’s perfectly capable when he puts his mind to things. It’s curious though; the transformation works the same way as the Patronus Charm, taking on the form befitting a person’s inner nature, so they tend to match up; his father was a stag, Professor McGonagall a cat. But, a Patronus can change....we saw that with Tonks; hers was a Jack Rabbit, but her love for Lupin changed the person she was, and the Patronus changed with her, becoming a wolf. Maybe for Harry, it’s his love for Sirius caused the difference....”

“What the bloody hell are you talking about Mione?” Ron cut her off, earning a reproachful glance from in response “Sorry, you’re lecturing again. And I don’t know what you’re talking about; Patronus charms, things changing, and how our ‘inner selves’ define.....whatever it is you’re talking about.  We’re not all as freakishly smart as you are”

“What you mean to say Weasely, is _you’re_ not as intelligent as she is” the blonde snipped in return, a scowl forming on his handsome features “Don’t include me in your short comings”

“Sod of ferret” Ron’s cheeks had already started to turn pink, some combination of embarrassment and anger “Come on then, what’s she talking about, if you’re so fucking smart?”

“Foul mouthed as well as incompetent, what a catch you are” his words dripped with scorn and sarcasm, thin lips turned down in a show of disgust “Since you are so evidently in need of enlightening, I’ll use small words for you. That little pile of books has given Granger an idea, which I can assure you, is wrong. The damn dog came bowling at me the moment I arrived with Harry last night. It is not a case of your precious golden boy having secretly learnt to....”

“But it fits! His father was one, his godfather was one, and they both learnt in secret, without any assistance. He has the books” she proceeded to wave one in the air, as if it proved everything “And these are very serious texts. I know Harry, he wouldn’t have books like this unless he was truly interested in something. The only other time he read things like this was for DADA”

“It fits nothing but a coincidence. The fact that family members took an interest in the art means nothing; for all you know they could have been left to him in Black’s will” Draco’s voce had risen slightly, growing impatient with the pair; he hadn’t thought getting rid of them would prove such a challenge “And yes Granger, I am well aware of the fact that Sirius Black was his godfather. In case you’ve forgotten, my mother was a Black; whilst my Uncle may have been banished from the family, I still knew about him”

Hermione shook her head vehemently, bushy hair bouncing from side to side.

“It’s not coincidence, I’m certain” she took a step forward, unfolding her arms, and tucking a hand into the pocket of her fitting jeans “What doesn’t fit is you Malfoy. Spending the night at Harry’s apartment, now hiding him. What’s your stake in this?”

“You’ve grown delusional” the blonde’s eyes flashed dangerously, his whole body tensing “I do not have a ‘stake’ in anything, as you put it, and I am not hiding anything, or anyone. You are spewing nonsense Granger”

“Can someone please tell me what you’re both talking about already” The pair were interrupted be Ron’s loud wining voice, as he slumped back into a chair by the window, looking completely defeated “Bloody hell, this makes me head hurt”

“Ron, really” Hermione breathed out in exasperation, pulling her wand from her pocket and aiming it at Marely, who was still hiding behind Draco’s legs “Harry’s an animagus. He didn’t suddenly decide to get a dog, he IS the dog”

“Wow, Malfoy’s right, the ferret’s right” Ron’s voice was low, almost a defeated mutter; he laughed slightly, the sound almost manic “You’re barking mad”

Shaking her head in mild irritation, the young witch turned her full attention to the blonde and the dog behind him, a smug smile appearing on her pretty features.

“I made sure to learn that little spell Sirius and Remus used to force Pettigrew into human form” she took a breath, and steadied her want “Show yourself willingly Harry, don’t make me force you”

Draco jumped slightly when the dog howled from behind his legs, the sound loud and mournful. A moment later, Marely trotted out of the room, head hung low. Draco snarled, feeling truly angry, and turned his now stormy eyes to the witch in front of him, disdain and frustration seeming to pulsate from his body. A few tense moments later, Harry Potter, the man people were so intent on seeing, walking into the room, clad in nothing but a dark red bathrobe, looking sheepish, nervous, and standing slightly behind Draco, yet drawing all eyes to him effortlessly; Hermione simply giving him a levelled look, whilst Ron seemed to have entered a state of mild amazement.

“Blimey, she’s right, you’re an animagus. That’s....pretty amazing Harry” what momentary amazement Ron felt, was quickly replaced by something else, when a particular thought occurred to him, a thought that made him shudder “But that means....that means I’ve been giving me best mate tummy rubs....for a while now....that’s just weird”

Hermione simply rolled her eyes in response, and opened her mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Draco’s sudden outburst. An uncharacteristic display of emotion.

“Happy now Granger? Are you pleased that you’ve forced this on him, found him out? Harry evidently does not wish to see either of you at the moment” Draco snapped, voice gradually rising, anger lacing every word, each said with the intent of harm “Have some decency, leave him in peace until he says otherwise. To think, some accuse me of being an emotionless bastard, perhaps they should be looking at you instead”

Before things could escalate further, Harry placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder, causing the blonde to turn and face him. Something in the Slytherins expression softened, only just noticeable; the hard line that was his mouth slowly became a sad half smile, eyes no longer flashing.

“It’s okay Draco” Harry’s voice was soft, emerald eyes looking up at the blonde “I’ll be okay”

“Forgive me Harry, I couldn’t achieve what you asked” a frustrated sigh pasted his lips, followed by a half hearted laugh; it was an odd feeling for Draco, to feel so worried about Harry Potter, of all people “She’s smarter than I gave her credit for”

“Yeah, Mione was always freakishly smart. Hard not to love that about her” Harry smiled a small smile, eyes still trained on the blonde man in front of him “Don’t apologise, you did what you could”

“Do you need me to stay?”

“No, it’s probably best that you go. Kind of need to have this conversation with them myself” Harry said with gratitude, voice gradually growing in strength “Owl me sometime, alright? Maybe we can get a drink sometime?”

Draco smiled the first true smile Ron or Hermione had ever seen from him, the exchange puzzling them both, however, they remained silent.

“I’d like that Harry” his smile quickly morphed into a teasing grin “A Malfoy getting a drink with the famed Harry Potter, who’d have thought it”

“Sod off Draco” Harry laughed, unable to prevent the wide grin that suddenly lit up his face. There really was something about the constant teasing that lifted his spirits.

Maybe it was the fact that Draco never held back, always willing to let his sarcasm flow, demonstrate his biting wit, or chastise those around him with his surprisingly passionate temper. Or, maybe Harry had actually started to like the male who’d always been his rival.

The blonde merely grinned in response, turning on his heel in a swift motion and quickly walking towards Harry’s modest fire place, ignoring the other two occupants of the room completely. He picked up the small pot on the mantle and took a handful of the powder it contained. Putting the pot back, momentarily wondering why an apartment had a fireplace of all things, he hurled the powder into the empty fireplace, causing green flames that produced no smoke to appear.  He stepped in and vanished, the words ‘Malfoy Manor’ echoing around the room in his clear and unmistakably aristocratic voice, reminding all of who’d just been there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random fact if anyone's curious. I based Marely's physical appearance on my Labradoodle Lexa before she went to the groomers. Kind of looked like a brown sheep, if that helps with the mental image.   
> I admit, I'm a bit soppy where she's concerned. Love my lovely girl! Even being jumped on and licked in the morning xD


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is probably one of the longer ones I've written in a fair length of time xD  
> As ever, thank you all for the support and the comments/kudos and book marks, I appreciate it :)  
> Hope you all enjoy this not so little update!

In the wake of Draco’s departure, a tense, stony silence had descended on Harry’s living room; each of the three occupants distracted by their own thoughts, and trying their best to ignore the less than comfortable atmosphere. Harry took a short, shaky breath, suddenly wishing he’d asked Draco to stay after all; he couldn’t explain why, but there was something about the blonde’s direct, almost offensive nature that had proven immensely comforting over the last few hours. Perhaps it was just the fact that Draco had always treated him like a normal person, not ‘Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived’, and later, the man who’d brought Voldemort to his final end. It was relieving, and as Harry had started to learn, often very amusing; it turned out that Draco had a wicked sense of humour, rooted in intense sarcasm and gentle teasing. It was by far the driest sense of humour he’d ever come across.

Taking another shaky breath, the dark haired male caught a scent lingering in the air. He smiled faintly, almost unnoticeable unless you were looking for it, when he immediately recognised it as whatever cologne Draco had been wearing the night before; something strong scented, masculine and no doubt very expensive. It calmed him, if only partially, making him wish for the blondes presence all the more.

Eye’s focusing; he looked across the room at his two friends to find Ron looking out the window, as if he were pretending he was somewhere else all together. His whole stance seemed to radiate an aura of discomfort, and Harry could hardly blame him for it Based on the partially overheard conversation between his two friends when they’d first arrived, this visit had not been Ron’s idea. Harry felt a faint blush rise on his cheeks when he looked at Hermione, only to be met by her intense gaze, brown eyes flicking over him, both critical and concerned at the same time. A sad smile crossed the young witches face, as she approached Harry, gently laying he hand on his shoulder, tilting her head up slightly to look into Harry’s green eyes.

“Harry.....I’m sorry” Her voice was soft, laced with sadness “We shouldn’t..... _I shouldn’t have_ turned up like that, and I shouldn’t have forced you like that. I’m worried about you, we both are”

“I know Mione. And I’m sorry for being so distance lately.....It’s just been very.....hard for me lately. But, um, can we...maybe talk in a few minutes?” Harry could feel himself blushing even further, stumbling over his words “It’s just....I’m naked apart from this robe, so....”

“Oh. Oh my god” Hermione blushed in turn, rushing to get her words out, eyes inadvertently travelling to the small expanse of Harry’s very toned and very bare chest, where his robe had come open slightly, then back to his face; it was a rare thing for Hermione Granger to be flustered “Yes, yes. Sorry. Please, go put something on”

Harry nodded his thanks, and made his way out of the room. When he was part way down the hallway to his bedroom, a slight grin appeared on his face, at the prospect of a chance to tease his friends, and maybe erase some of the tension. Turning his head around, he called back into the sitting room.

“Hey Ron!” A mischievous grin crossed the dark haired males face, something that hadn’t happened in a while “You were really good at the tummy rubs! Maybe give me one when I’m not a dog?”

“You’re a dirty bugger Harry Potter!” Ron’s voice snapped back almost instantly, traces of indignation obvious, though with an underlying tone of amusement.

Harry laughed to himself, finding the sputtering coming from the other room exceptionally entertaining; finding ways of making Ron uncomfortable had a way of brightening his day. It felt good to joke with them again, but he still didn’t feel completely ready to return to ‘normal’ life, not quite yet. However, deep down, Harry knew he couldn’t fill his time completely with work and hide away from the world forever; eventually, he’d have to face reality once more, just like the rest of the world had.

_xxx_

Draco stepped out of the Malfoy Manor floo point in a swirl of black cloth and green fire, striding into the greeting area with the grace and suggestion of purpose he was so well known for. Once upon a time, legions of house elves would have appeared, to attend to any visitors to the Manor; whilst the bleating hangers on would have swarmed immediately, hoping to ingratiate themselves with the higher ups in the wizarding world. Malfoy Manor had acted and operated in much the same way as the great palaces of the world, divided into sections and split by how ‘prestigious’ a person was, or who they knew. The floo point, a grand room that acted as the entry point, along with an adjoining dining room, both individually grand, were but some of the smallest and least significant of the rooms used for visitors; those who gathered here were of the lower rungs, yet still far above the general populous. They were the sons and daughters of so and so from another part of the world, or the colleagues of someone’s uncle or cousin.

From there, additional larger, far grander dinner rooms were for those closer to heights of the upper echelons, whilst the most important gathered at the heart of the Manor, the room that had been Lucius Malfoy’s study.

It was a room covered in ornate bookshelves, filled with rare tomes of magical and historical significance, a wealth of richly designed display cases filled with dark artefacts that would leave the world trembling if they were used; deep sofas and chairs that Draco could have happily spent the rest of his life in, and a supply of liquor that was the envy of every other pure blood family. And yet.....and yet Draco wished for nothing other than the ability to burn the room to the ground, and the rest of the Manor with it. Once, it had been a home, but insanity had quickly infested it, taking root and turning it into something grotesque. Officially, his father had been pardoned of his crimes, but the blonde could never forget the fact that the place he had grown up in, and the study he’d spent so many years wishing he would be admitted to, had become Voldemort’s headquarters, all because his father couldn’t say no to a man who was clearly deranged.

The man was dead, but his stain still remained; the Manor had become a place of imprisonment, pain, and death. And now, the embodiment of Draco’s solitude and all encompassing loneliness; a mark of shame.

Draco scowled around the room, trying to dispel the low mood that had settled over him. Thinking about the Manor, and past events had a way of making him miserable and irritable, regardless of whatever else had happened. He blinked, a faint sliver of shock running through his body when he realised that spending time with Harry Potter had _actually_ made him happy. The messy hair, the bright green eyes, his clumsy yet endearing personality, and his constant need to help those around him......slowly, a small smile softened the blonde’s features; maybe, just maybe, he’d found a friend, one he could truly count on.

Feeling suddenly lighter, Draco strode from the room, passing from corridor to corridor, intent on making his way to the upper floors; namely his bedroom and the adjoining shower and bath room. But, before he reached the grand staircase leading upwards, he passed a small door tucked into a corner, and stopped. The door was made of thick wood, tinted a dark brown, so dark it almost looked black. It led to one of the mansions underground levels, all of which resembled the dungeons at Hogwarts. Draco had converted this one in particular to a potions and alchemy lab, somewhere to practise his passion and perfect the craft. Ideally, Draco would have preferred to use the larger of the underground sections, but he hadn’t worked up the courage to enter that particular part of the mansion yet. Every time he came near, his mind was assaulted by memories of forlorn screams, and pleas for help; the Dark Lord had had the area converted into holding cells, and rows of small alcoves where his more sadistic followers could indulge there....creative side. Draco had done his best to seal the area, and put it out of his mind.

Now, standing before the wooden door, a strange thought occurred to him, something akin to charity or a favour for a friend. Soon after he’d been forcibly inducted into the Death Eater ranks, the nightmares had started; dream sequences that left him drenched in sweat and thrashing from side to side, and almost made it impossible to function on a daily basis. The scenes that played out in his dreams were filled with death, blood, and mindless slaughter, all overshadowed by the maniacal laughter of Voldemort. But, with time and a lot of dabbling in the potions classrooms, he’d found a solution.

His own special blend of Dreamless Sleep, just far more efficient than the one taught at Hogwarts, and less addictive. He’d recorded it in his private potions text book, a habit he’d learnt from his godfather.

When Harry had mentioned suffering from nightmares, ones that kept him from sleep most nights, Draco had felt a strange sense of sorrow and understanding, and realised he could do something about it. He’d once hid the dark haired man from his aunt, and now he found himself with a chance to help him again.

With a new sense of resolve flowing through him, Draco abruptly turned on the spot, and made his way to the small wooden door. Grasping the cool metal of the handle, the blonde pulled it open, and descended into the gloom, quickly dispelled by the simple charms placed on the wall sconces that lined the steep stone staircase, and the room beneath. The sound of his footsteps echoed around the area, like a drum beat, as the candles quickly flashed to life, their flames dancing along the walls in an almost mesmerising fashion.  

Standing in the centre of what had become his favourite place in the Manor; Draco looked around, taking in the familiar and comforting sight of potions bottles, piles of parchment, cauldrons, supply cupboards, and every other piece of equipment imaginable. All to further his knowledge of potions, and the possible career applications. Turning on his heel, Draco quickly made his way to a small desk he’d tucked into the far corner of the room. It was simple, made of dark wood, and seemed almost sparse in its simplicity and lack of clutter. His silver eyes fell on the only piece of parchment on the desk, covered in neat black words and numbers.

His stock list.

Eyes roaming over the parchment, he quickly came across the notation he was looking for: how many vials of Dreamless Sleep he had on hand. Whilst he had more than enough of the Dreamless Sleep potion to remedy Harry’s problem for a significant length of time, he simply loved the brewing process too much. It gave him time to think, and the blonde felt in desperate need of that now. He still couldn’t figure out why he’d tried to help Harry keep up his charade, and now, he had the unmistakable desire to provide the dark haired male with aid yet again. Was this simple sympathy, or maybe it really was friendship; either way, Draco felt mystified. After all, he’d never had the desire to do anything like this for any of those who he’d originally labelled friends. But, they had never truly been his friends, just those who his father had deemed ‘the right people’ to be associated with.

Silver eyes scanning over the room, they settled on one of his larger cauldrons; he stepped towards it, shrugging his jacket off and laying it across his arm as he went. He stopped just in front of the work station, a solid wooden table with a selection of drawers that contained everything he would need. He’d had the room stocked with enough equipment to serve a team of at least ten, or to teach a lesson on the art, if people weren’t so against a Malfoy doing such work. Secretly, Draco had desires to go into teacher, naturally as a potions master, though the black mark left on the Malfoy name made it nearly impossible; a dream, a simple hope that would never come to pass. The option of abandoning it all together existed; he’d considered using his mother’s maiden name, Black, on more than one occasion, yet his pride always won out. He was a Malfoy by birth, and so he would remain.

Sighing slightly, Draco called for one of the few elves he’d kept on. A building the size of the Manor took more than one elf, even with their magical abilities, to keep in order.

“Missy, I need you in the potions room” Draco called softly, knowing full well the elf in question would hear him regardless of how loudly, or quietly, he spoke. It was something in their magic, so he thought at least.

A moment later, a small figure appeared at his feet, a small popping sound echoing around the room in her wake. Large amber eyes, long ears drooping down her face like curtains, adorned in a floral pillow case, and a bright purple wig that very nearly reached her large feet. Missy, one of Draco’s more eccentric elves, by house elf standards at least. Whilst it was certain his father would have punished the small creature severely for wearing something like a wig, Draco simply did not care; in the years since his parents had left for Europe, the elf in question had provided better company than anyone else.

“Yes Master Draco?” Missy blinked up at him, amber eyes twinkling in the low light “How can Missy be of service to Master Draco?”

Draco smiled down at the small creature, and handed her his jacket.

“Take my jacket to my room for me, and put it away. Then, prepare a small lunch and bring it to me here, I imagine I’ll be occupied for a number of hours” Draco turned back to the work station, effectively dismissing her “That will be all for now Missy”

“Of course Master Draco” She bowed low, ears trailing across the cool stone floor “Whatever Master Draco asks”

She vanished with another small pop, leaving Draco alone in the semi gloom. He took a breath, and undid a few more buttons of his shirt, then his cuffs, and rolled his sleeves up past his elbows. Brewing always had a way of heating him up, even in the coldest of rooms.

The blonde smiled, and set about the task that would keep him occupied for the next few hours, a small sense of contentment washing over him.

_xxx_

Some hours later, Draco lay dozing in his large bathtub, feeling completely at ease. It was an artfully designed item, as most things in the mansion were, and could have easily fit three or four people, not that he’d ever had cause to test it in that regard. The brewing process had gone as expected, the mixture turning the right colour at the right time, and was now under the watchful gaze of Missy. For general ease, he’d begun teaching the elf about brewing and potions; it had turned out that she made a rather efficient assistance, showing more promise than the vast majority of his classmates at Hogwarts. She’d either bottle it up herself, or call Draco when it was done so he could bottle it; somehow, the small elf always seemed to know exactly what her master’s mood called for; whether he needed it done for him, or if he needed the sense of control that always came with potions work.

His body was completely submerged in warm, fragrant water; relaxing his muscles and his mind at the same time. The room smelt strongly of lavender and camomile, and was making it near impossible for the blonde to stay awake, especially when mixed with the slight tingling sensation from the water; it almost felt like a lover’s gentle caress, a warm hand trailing over his skin, tantalising his senses with a light touch that left him craving more. Draco sighed softly, suddenly wishing he had some company; someone male, and preferably very naked, running their hands over is body.

Slowly, the blonde trailed his hand along his torso, homing in on one of his nipples. Draco’s breath caught in his throat as he began pinching and rubbing the hard fleshy bud, causing small waves of pleasure to wash throughout his body. His head fell to the side, eyes drifting shut, body sifting slightly from side to side in pleasure. Before long, he felt his cock begin to harden, the sensation of the water tingling along his shaft causing another groan of pleasure to drift from his slightly open mouth.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the blonde moved his free hand between his legs, gently massaging his testicles before grasping his hard member, pumping his hand up and down a few times, gently squeezing the head, trailing his thumb across the slit, causing him to shiver again despite the heat.

Eyes still shut; the blonde’s mind began to drift, his imagination coming to life. In his mind’s eye, Draco saw a mass of black hair and vibrant green eyes, lightly tanned skin covering a toned body hovering over his own, bright green eyes locked onto his hard cock, a slightly calloused hand jerking him faster and faster. As the scene continued to play inside his head, the green eyes flicked up, boring directly into Draco’s silver ones with a heat and intensity that caused him to shiver yet again, heart fluttering. Draco watched with rapt attention as the figure before him slowly leant towards the water, lowering itself until the mass of jet black hair was completely submerged. The blonde’s mouth fell open in a silent gasp when he felt himself slowly being taken into the figures mouth, calloused hand still pumping him in time with the gentle bobbing motion.

Before long, he felt a gentle pressure well within him, one that grew steadily stronger, threatening to spill over. His head was resting against the side of the bath, back arched off the base, golden hair hanging in loose strands; the perfect picture of an erotic dream.

He could feel himself coming closer to the edge, the pressure building to a point that he simply could not hold back any longer. A low moan was torn from his throat, a single word uttered in a breathless gasp as Draco came with a force he had never known before, thick strands of cum erupting from his cock, mingling with the water.

“ _Harrrryyyy_......”

Body still tingling from the force of his orgasm, Draco’s eyes drifted open slightly, just enough to glance around the steaming room. He was, unfortunately, alone; the underwater blowjob nothing but a vivid figment of his imagination. A gentle smile graced his lips, speaking of a sudden satisfaction; a part of him hoped that their drunken night of frenzied fucking was but the first of many more to come.

Now feeling entirely sated and worn out, Draco allowed himself to drift into a peaceful slumber, surrounded by the heady scent of lavender and the waters all encompassing caress.

_xxx_

To say Harry was dragging his feet would be an understatement. He was doing his utmost to take as long as was humanly possible to get himself dressed; he had, in fact, stopped entirely in favour of laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. All to put off the conversation he was about to have as long as he could; it was something he’d rather have avoided completely if possible, but things simply hadn’t worked out that way. He didn’t blame Draco in any way for that; the blonde had done what he could, when he didn’t have to do a thing. Harry was nothing but grateful, and excited at the prospect of future meetings, and a chance to get to know the _real_ Draco Malfoy further.

He hoped, sincerely and wholeheartedly, that he’d receive word from the blonde soon. Another meeting, another chance to talk, maybe another night spent tangled together, driven by nothing but the frenzied desire to fuck.

Sighing to himself, Harry slowly rolled to the side of the bed and slid his feet onto the floor. It was high time he stopped putting things off, and just got it out of the way. Standing up, he made his way over to his modest wardrobe, and pulled out a plain grey t-shirt. When paired with simple black jeans, it made for a semi smart look that suited him perfectly. Harry pulled the shirt over his head, and made his way out into the hallway, then on into the lounge, where he was shocked to only find Hermione. She’d move to his modest sitting area, and had settled into the sofa he’d somehow squeezed into the room along with two matching armchairs. The area was completed with a small coffee table, wooded base with a glass top tinted black.

“Hey Hermione” his voice was soft, just carrying over the room “Where’s Ron gone?”   

The brunette woman turned her head, and smiled comfortingly at Harry as he came further into the room, and settled into one of the armchairs.

“I sent him home” She shifted slightly in the seat, getting comfortable and facing Harry “Thought it would be easier if it was just you and me. I’ll talk to him for you, if you’d prefer”

“Thanks Mione, but I should talk to Ron myself”

He smiled in gratitude, and seemed to sink further into the armchair. Somehow, the slight change in circumstance calmed his nerves greatly. Hermione had always been the easiest to talk to when it came to emotions and feelings, and Harry was reassured by her change in mood. The fury that she’d turned up with had vanished, being replaced with a silent concern. He’d have found the prospect of this conversation so much more daunting if her near righteous fury had remained; deep down, he know he’d ended up neglecting those close to him, almost dropping off the face of the earth with little to no word. Looking across at the young witch, Harry yet again couldn’t help but feel a certain level of admiration for her, the young woman who’d been instrumental in the war, had then gone on to complete her final year at Hogwarts with outstanding grades and had then promptly found herself a respectable position in the Ministry. Looking at her, he saw nothing but the calm poise, intellect, and caring nature that made her such a wonderful person.

Yet, despite all this, he’d done his best to avoid her.

The witch smiled gently across at Harry, concern evident in her large brown eyes. She’d folded one leg over the other, and had her hands clasped together in her lap; it was a position that seemed to balance professionalism with deep concern almost perfectly.

“It’s alright Harry, we can do this another time if you’d be more comfortable with it” Her mind flicked briefly back to her run in with Malfoy earlier, remembering his words “Something’s obviously going on with you, but....like Malfoy said, you should talk when you’re ready”

Harry groaned and let his head fall back, resting against the soft surface of the chair; he shut his eyes, trying to bring some coherent sense to his thoughts. Expressing these feelings to other people had never proved simple, so he’d given up trying. For some strange reason, he had the immediate sense that he wouldn’t have this trouble if he were faced with Draco. This sudden conclusion did nothing but puzzle Harry.

“It’s hard to put into words. I just needed a break.....from everything” His body sunk further into the chair, relaxing him, making it easier to continue “After everything that went on in the war...the people we lost; Colin, Lupid, Tonks, Snape, Dumbledore....Fred. I guess I just needed time to myself, to fully sort things out in my head”

When Hermione did nothing but smile encouragingly, Harry took a deep breath and continued speaking, moving onto some things he’d never expressed to anyone else, and to an extent couldn’t comprehend fully.

“Before you ask, I’m not depressed, or at least I don’t think I am. I’m just.....regretful, and....and ashamed. Of everything that happened, everything that needed doing, _everything I did_ ” His voice faltered slighter, a single tear forming in the corner of his left eye “Do you know what really gets to me though? What moment keeps playing on my mind, what fucking moment makes me feel the worse? I regret killing Volde...Tom. For all the death and sorrow he brought, I feel so fucking guilty for doing it. And.....I don’t think he deserved it...”

Harry sighed again, and leant forward; he ran a hand through his messy black hair, succeeding in only making it worse. An intense look appeared in his bright green eyes, mingling with the welling tears, giving him an almost manic look.

“The more I think about it Hermione, the more I keep coming back to the same conclusion. If I could do it once, then why not again? And again?” He spoke slowly, intensely “What if I _become as bad as him_ , or even worse? I had a part of him in my all my life, what if.....what if it changed me?”

“Oh Harry” She gave him a sad smile, a tear rolling down her cheek “You’re by far the bravest, most noble person I know, and you feel...so much. It’s only natural that you feel that way Harry, only natural to have that concern. But, believe me, you’ll never become as dark and twisted as _he_ was”

The brunette which leant closer, resting a cool hand on his knee.

“You have people who care about you Harry, hold on to that, and you’ll be okay. Trust me” She squeezed his knee, smiled again “Is this why you’ve been avoiding us Harry? Or is it something else?”

“Kind of. Maybe both. It’” He began rubbing at his eyes, tears now slowly running from both. After a moment, he lowered his hands again, eyes now red “It’s stupid, I shouldn’t even be bothering you with this”

“Whatever it is isn’t stupid in your mind Harry. Please, talk to me”

He could feel himself faltering under her intense gaze, the pin point focus.

“It’s just so damn hard to explain....” He barked a short sardonic laugh, shaking his head “Everyone’s moved on, they behave as if nothing ever happened, as if our world wasn’t a second away from destruction. It was my life since the moment I was born.....I can’t forget it, I can’t move past it. Not yet....”

Harry trailed off, and sighed for what felt like the thousandth time that day. Suddenly, he felt extremely tired, almost worn down to his very bones. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep, forget everything for at least a time, though he knew it would be harder to achieve than that. As much as he cared for the brunette witch, her dogged perseverance and pursuit of ‘the truth’ could be extremely wearing, and hard to deal with; especially when it came to personal matters. There was a part of him, and a large part at that, which wished this conversation, had never started. As it turned out, part of what he was feeling must have showed, even if just as a small glint in his eyes, for the frown that had developed on the brunettes features slowly vanished, when she realized he wasn’t going to say any more on the matter.

“I’m sorry Harry, I’m pushing you. We can talk again another time, when you’re ready” She smiled brightly, though he could clearly see the slight frustration and disappointment behind it. He hadn’t given the type of answer she’d been hoping for. Patting his leg for a final time, she settled back onto the sofa, a small rosy tint appearing on her cheeks “Just one more question?”

The dark haired male laughed, the sound strained and tired, and grimaced slightly.

“There’s always another question with you Mione. Sure, go ahead”

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, her face seeming to grow redder by the second.

“You and...Malfoy” She paused, taking a few moments to school voice, trying to calm what sounded like a slight quiver. She cleared her throat, and continued “I noticed the marks on your neck earlier. I know a hickey when I see one. Are you two....dating?”

As she was talking, Harry instinctively covered his neck with his hand, trying to cover the marks. He clearly remembered Draco’s almost brutal enthusiasm that night and the fervour with which he’d seemed to bite and suck the skin around Harry’s neck. Harry blushed deeply, remembering exactly how good it had felt.

“We’re...um....not together. Like that” Harry couldn’t help but stutter, feeling tremendously embarrassed “Look, we honestly did just bump into each other last night. Before then, I hadn’t seen Draco since the Death Eater Trials”

“So, Draco, is it?” An almost coy smile pulled at the corners of Hermione’s mouth, as she arched one brunette eyebrow at Harry.

“Yeah, it’s Draco now, not ‘Malfoy’” He could feel his face getting hotter by the second “He approached me, we started talking, drinking....laughing. He’s actually a pretty nice guy. The war changed him, just like it changed everyone”

“And last night the two of you.....really got to know each other?” The coy smile remained, though it was obvious the brunette witch found the topic slightly uncomfortable and embarrassing, though her constant thirst for knowledge and answers meant she would press forward regardless.

“Umm, yeah, Mione, suppose we kind of did” Harry couldn’t help but grin widely at her, despite the red tint that seemed to be on both their faces. His smile faltered slightly when she began speaking again.

“Just be careful Harry” her tone had grown serious, worried “Sleeping together, becoming friends....it’s too similar to what happened with Michael. I don’t want to see you hurt like that again”

As soon as the name had been uttered, a switch seemed to flick inside Harry. Old feelings he’d long since buried came hurtling back in one go; the old pain, longing, the sense of betrayal, the hate. Even love. However, in all outward appearances, his inner turmoil would be unnoticeable to all aside from the few that knew him the most. His posture snapped from relaxing into a tense, rigid state, whilst his usually bright eyes seemed to lose their sparkle, their lustre.

“I’m not a clingy adolescent any longer. I don’t need someone looking after me every moment of every day, or questioning my actions. And I know when sex is just sex” his words were clipped, sharp, showing the anger that seethed and roiled just below the surface.

Hermione seemed to physically withdraw, a pained expression flashing across her pretty features, quickly schooled into one of neutrality. However, before she had a chance to say anything else, their attentions were drawn by a loud crash. Hermione jumped slightly, whilst Harry merely sighed in frustration and mild annoyance. He waved his hand at the lounge window, the gesture having a dismissive air to it that would have made any member of the Malfoy family proud. Hermione turned towards the window, immediately noticing the dark shape that seemed to be flapping against the clear material to no avail. She turned back to Harry, eyebrow raised in a questioning look.

Slowly, the dark haired male stood up from his seat, and stalked towards the window, grasping the handle and pushing somewhat harder than was strictly necessary, allowing the shape entry in a flurry of feathers. The small tawny owl fluttered around the room a few times, before settling on the coffee table, looking at Harry and hooting.

“Fucking Ministry owls. Whoever trained them forgot about ‘stand on the windowsill and peck for entry’. These bloody things just crash into everything” Harry snorted, frustration seeping from his every word.

Wearily, he made his way back to his original position, falling back into the chair and reaching for the small creature, and the piece of parchment tied to its leg. He untied it with little difficulty, broke the seal, and unrolled it, eyes flicking across the neatly written words within. Getting up yet again, he discarded the note on the table and disappeared into another section of the apartment, only to return a minute later with a handful of treats. With a small smile on his face, he fed the owl, petting it gently; evoking what could only be called squawks of pleasure from the animal. After another minute, he sent the owl back to the Ministry, shutting the window behind it. As much as the continuous collisions with his windows annoyed him, he couldn’t help but think of Hedwig whenever he fed one of the owls.

Turning back to Hermione, he found she’d already made her way to his modest fire place, and floo point. He felt himself blushing, shame for his earlier outburst washing over him.

“Urgent summons from the Ministry. Apparently there’s someone that wants to talk to me. Umm, look...sorry about earlier. Things are still painful where _he’s_ concerned” he made his way towards Hermione, eyes downcast, looking dejected “Hearing his name still brings it all back”

The brunette witch didn’t say anything, instead simply wrapping Harry in a hug, kissing his cheek lightly, and holding him; almost immediately, she felt his arms wrap around her in turn, hugging back fiercely, as if trying to dispel all negative emotions through that simple embrace, pouring all his despair into her.

They stayed that way for a few minutes, as if making up for lost time, before separating and smiling at each other. Hermione gave him another friendly peck on the cheek, before grabbing a handful of floo powder, and positioning herself in front of the fireplace.

“Stop apologizing Harry. Now, make yourself presentable for the Ministry, and get going. You can’t keep them waiting” she glanced back at him and grinned “Don’t be a stranger Harry, and you will be coming over for dinner in the week”

“Yes ma’am”

“You’re as bad as Ronald”

Still laughing lightly, she threw the fine powder into the fire, calling out ‘The Burrow’, and vanishing in a puff of green fire, leaving Harry alone to contemplate exactly who was so intent on talking to him at the Ministry.

_xxx_

Some hours later, Harry found himself striding along one of the many corridors in the Auror department, heading towards to the room he’d been assigned as an office. His mood had soured considerably, at the prospect of most of his Saturday being wasted on a useless task.

He’d been called in to question a witch who’d turned herself in, raving about being a Death Eater, and one of the Dark Lords closest and most loyal followers. She’d even had the Dark Mark to prove it, and had continuously insisted that she possessed some crucial information, and would only talk to Harry Potter.

But, as it had turned out, the whole thing had been a waste of time, the woman nothing more than highly disturbed and possessing no trace of sanity, the information nonexistent, the Dark Mark nothing more than a very good rendition made with standard quill ink. After berating the Auror who had made the original arrest for not conducting a better initial examination, the large smudge caused by a wayward thumb being a dead giveaway, he’d called for someone from St Mungo’s to come and tend to the woman, before stalking away in a distinctly foul mood, uniform cape swirling in a fashion that would have made Severus Snape jealous.

Now, pointless interview conducted, he had an array of official documentation to be filled out and filed with the appropriate people. All over one mad woman. Normally, he’d have been significantly more sympathetic, but he simply could not bring himself to show that degree of patience.

The only thing that abated his mood to a small degree was the fact that the scowl that twisted his handsome features seemed to prevent anyone else from approaching him. Once he’d joined the department, he’d quickly learned he could be very intimidating when sufficiently annoyed; add the uniform and the fact that he was the wizard who saved the world from a maniac bent on genocide and world domination, the ‘don’t fuck with me’ image had been completed.

Though the likes of Ron and Kingsley just seemed to find it funny. His boss, Gawain Robards, seemed to take great satisfaction in using it to his advantage.

Before long, Harry found himself within the safe confines of his office, seated behind his modest and excessively cluttered desk. The room itself wasn’t especially large, but he’d done his best to make it comfortable, filling it with pictures of his parents, pictures of Ron and Hermione, the Weasley’s, various bits of Quidditch memorabilia, and what was by far his favourite item of them all. A small framed picture on his desk, the only one of himself and Sirius. They’d snuck out of Grimmauld Place one day, during a lull in activity; they’d spent the day at the beach, laughing and relaxing. He’d ended up asking a passerby to take a picture of the two of them together. He’d later framed it, had it charmed, and given it to Sirius.

Now though, it was a fond memory, though a bittersweet one.

He smiled a sad smile, watching the magical figures laughing and waving. Harry ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end more than it normally did, and reclined in his chair, no longer feeling pissed off and frustrated, just sad and weary.

Picking his wand up from the desk, he cast a simple silencing charm on the room, then another to plunge the room into semi darkness. Putting the wand back on the desk, somewhere amidst the clutter, Harry shut his eyes; quickly drifting into what would prove to be a disturbed sleep.

_xxx_

_Slowly, Harry felt himself waking....but not quite waking. He opened his eyes, blinking up at the unfamiliar ceiling he saw above him. Dull, faded white; the floor was hard and cold, unforgiving in every aspect and felt slightly damp. He began to sit up, clambering to his feet, groaning at the stiffness that had settled into his lower back. Brows furrowing with confusing, he looked around the room he found himself in, taking note of the innumerable ornately designed sinks with matching taps, the row of sealed cubicles, the bank of mirrors......_

_He blinked in mild shock, realising he was standing in, of all places, a lavatory, but certainly not the ones at the Ministry. They were, by comparison to the one Harry found himself in, exceptionally bland. Sighing in slight annoyance, he made his way towards the large wooden door standing at the other end of the room. He grasped the cool metal handle and pulled, only to find the door wouldn’t move an inch; he tried pushing, only to find the same thing happened. The door would not move, it was evidently, sealed tight._

_Dropping his hand back to his side and scowling at the less than cooperative door, he turned back to the room intent on looking for some clue as to where the hell he was, only to find the landscape had changed. He was still standing in a lavatory, but a number of things had been added, things that instantly told him where he was._

_Hogwarts. Boys toilets._

_And what had finally tipped him to the location? Made it so irrevocably recognisable to him?_

_A blonde teenage male, sprawled across the floor in a puddle of water and blood. His once stark white shirt was now tinted a dark red, where Harry knew a number of long, deep cuts marred the once perfect flesh. Crouching beside the male in the same pool of blood and water was another male, though with messy black hair. Harry knew, without a shadow of a doubt who they were, and what had happened._

_It was another memory, another scene from his past that now caused him nothing but pain; it was a moment he was deeply ashamed of, and wanted to forget. He’d been certain Draco, or Malfoy as he was then, had been up to something for most of the year, and he’d been right; Harry had stumbled across him in a corridor, followed him to the bathrooms and was greeted by a sight he had never forgotten. Draco Malfoy, known for his proud nature and sneering over confidence was leaning over a sink, staring at himself in a mirror....and had looked broken, tears streaming down his face, as if his whole world had come crashing down around him, never to be put back together._

_It was a look Harry found he could never forget, much like the following moments. Their eyes had locked in the mirror; he’d tried to speak, only to find himself dodging a curse sent his way by the blonde. Harry hadn’t known the effects of the spell he used next, not until he actually hit a living target with it._

_Sectumsempra, learnt from a potions book he’d accidently come across, a book that had once belonged to Snape, though he’d only signed it ‘The Half Blood Prince’._

_Looking at the ghosts of his past, a younger version of himself crouching over the prone form of someone he’d suddenly come to consider a friend, left a lump in Harry’s throat, caused tears to form and begin to fall. Slowly at first, but picking up speed and regularity in no time at all, until they were gushing down his face._

_“God Draco...” His words caught in his throat, a faint sob slipping past is lips “I’m so sorry, I could have killed you. I nearly did...”_

_“But you didn’t, Mr Potter” An aristocratic voice drifted towards Harry, as if coming from nowhere and everywhere at the exact same time “The outcome would have been significantly different, had your aim been better”_

_“I’m glad it wasn’t better.....” Harry sniffed loudly and wiped the tears from his face, not even attempting to find the source of the voice. Instinctively, he knew who was talking to him “I couldn’t live with myself if I’d done more damage”_

_He felt a presence behind him, and a warm hand on his shoulder, grasping it firmly in an almost comforting gesture. Harry turned his head to the side slightly, and was met by the sight he’d expected. A tall figure, covered from head to toe in a hooded black cloak, carrying an equally black staff. The figure still had no face, instead, just a black void._

_“Yes, I suppose you would feel that way. You are foolish, but ultimately a kind hearted person. Better than most” The figures voice was softer than the last time, though still every bit as cultured and smooth. He, for the voice could only belong to male, removed his hand from Harry’s should and stepped forward, bringing them side by side “Mistakes are endemic to natural life Mr Potter; learn from them, yes, but do not become hindered by them”_

_“But my mistakes cost people their lives....and with Draco...” The dark haired male paused, taking a deep breath as a fresh round of tears sprang forth “With Draco, it nearly did. I nearly killed someone who was just as much a victim as everyone I fought to save”_

_“You are not alone in being burdened by mistakes that cost others dearly, Mr Potter” Harry could have sworn he heard something akin to regret in that cultured voice._

_They stood side by side for a number of minutes, neither saying a word, both looking at the scene that was paused before them. Like a snapshot, Draco’s blood still pooled on the floor, his silver eyes still haunted, fragile, and so very confused. Those very emotions were reflected in Harry’s eyes._

_At the same time, he could feel his mind ticking, slowly going over what little he’d learned. This felt so different from the last time he’d watched a moment from his past with the unknown onlooker. Whilst the haughty superiority, almost natural disdain remained, there was sympathy as well this time._

_Harry swiped his hand across his face again, wiping away the trails his tears had left on his face, before turning his head slightly, regarding the figure next to him._

_“Who are you? What are you?” His words were soft, barely above a whisper, yet the figure heard them nonetheless “Are you even real?”_

_“Mors ultima linea rerum est. A curious notion. One than should be reconsidered” The figure said, though seemingly addressing no one in particular, traces of amusement evident in his voice._

_“What does that even mean?” Harry’s voice had risen, something close to desperation entering his voice, causing his words to shake “Just answer one of my damn questions, please!”_

_The figure laughed in response, the sound warm and melodic, floating around the room, filling it effortlessly. Before Harry had a chance to speak again, the figure raises his staff and brought it down on tiled floor with a resounding thud, causing Harry to flinch back momentarily. In that second, as his eyes were partially shut, he caught a glimpse of a strange light billowing from the red jewel at the staff’s top, creating a thin spectral material that covered the figures body, moulding itself to his every contour. As the light faded, it gave way to something that left the dark haired male speechless, incapable of fully comprehending what he was witnessing. No longer was there a hooded and robed figure before him, faceless and unknowable; instead, there stood a young man, no more than 30, with mid length black hair that was swept back neatly, no doubt in a style that the fashion minded would call ‘windswept’ whilst his chin framed by a short black goatee. His eyes were a startlingly clear blue, piercing and hypnotising in their intensity._

_Harry gulped, unable to prevent himself from taking in every other detail he could notice. His eyes travelled up and down the male’s body, taking note of deep red, almost burgundy tunic that reached his knees; a pair of matching leggings underneath, with a set of smart black walking boots. The tunic was pressed tightly against his waist by a belt of black leather with traces of a gold material woven around it; a decorative looking sword clipped to one side, the scabbard glittering and oddly simple, made of some kind of gold and black material. On the unknown males left hand there sat a single gold ring, with a black stone at its centre, on his ring finger. Did this mean he was married?_

_The young man chuckled again, causing Harry’s eyes to snap to his face, and the gentle grin that had appeared on his lips._

_“Stop clinging to past Mr Potter. Your pain, your shame, your regret....let it all go, and accept what has happened. The deaths of your loved ones could not be prevented, simply cherish what moments you had, and the knowledge that you avenged them”_

_The males form began to lose shape, blurring at the edges, shrinking in and changing shape. Harry could almost guess what was about to happen next._

_“Think on all I’ve said” Again, the voice sounded from everywhere, as if inside Harry’s head, and not coming from the shape that was slowly assembling itself before his eyes “Till next we meet”_

_Harry gritted his teeth, a grimace twisting his features as he found himself again faced with the spectral bird with the glowing red eyes. It shrieked, rose far above his head, and came rushing back towards him. He tried to hold in the scream, ignore the sudden pain caused by its beak piercing his flesh, crushing his chest as if it was nothing, but to no avail. His mouth fell open, a silent scream spilling forth....._

_xxx_

Harry awoke with a start, the same scream as in his dream threatening to escape. He could feel himself shaking, chilled to the very core by the cold sweat that had suddenly broken out over his entire body. To make it worse, he could still feel a faint pain in the centre of his chest where.....where he’d _dreamt_ the bird had pierced his flesh.

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, finding it was damp, plastered to his head by sweat. He couldn’t help but remember some years before when the link with Voldemort had become most active, being able to see inside his mind and watch his very actions as they were taking place, but these dreams felt so different from that. It wasn’t like he was looking into someone else’s mind; it was like he was being forced to look into his own, to relive past events. He’d idly considered confiding in those close to him about these recent dreams, but found the mere idea of their no doubt incessant and over baring worry far too much. The dark haired male took a few deep breaths, willing his quivering body to cease its shaking, as he slowly stood from his chair, only to end up nearly collapsing on the corner of his desk.

He took a few moments to lean against the desk, until he felt certain his legs wouldn’t give out under him again. Gingerly, he began to make his way to the office door; intent on heading to what he’d begun to call ‘the break room’. It was nothing more than a large unused office he and a number of the other Aurors had converted into an area to eat and relax. By some miracle, Arthur Weasley had somehow managed to get a muggle vending machine in as well, which meant cheap chocolate, and that was exactly what Harry felt in need of now. It was a habit he’d picked up from Lupin, who always seemed to have a piece of chocolate concealed on his person somewhere, as a remedy for any shock, or taxing activity.

Stumbling out into the corridor, Harry was relieved to find it deserted. The idea of his colleagues seeing him so shaken was not appealing in the slightest. Strength and control gradually returning, he began to make his way along the corridor, unimaginative and plain by the Ministry’s standards, quickly coming to a circular room that served as a hub of sorts for the Auror department. Various other corridors lead of from the room, leading towards different sections of the department and eventually, into the main Ministry complex. The walls were lined with portraits of men and women relevant to the Wizarding world, most of whom Harry had never heard of; regardless of how much time he spent learning about the culture he’d been thrust into so suddenly.

Harry leant against the wall, taking a moment to catch his breath, allowing his eyes to slowly roam over the various portraits and landscapes. He’d never really taken the time to examine them fully, take full note of who was and wasn’t here. One or two struck a chord in his heart, those portraying the Order of the Phoenix members, though for the most part the faces were unfamiliar to him. However, when his eyes reached the halfway point, he blinked in shock, audibly gasping and mouth hanging open in shock. He stepped forward, eyes still locked onto a single portrait.

“What the hell.....” Eyelids rapidly blinking, words little more than a whisper “Is that....?”

By comparison, this painting wasn’t the grandest; in fact, it was relatively plain. A single person in the foreground, standing proudly before what looked like a part of Hogwarts, or some other castle. However, it was the person who Harry was drawn to; a young man, no more than 30, mid length black hair swept back, framing his face. A neatly trimmed black goatee, piercing blue eyes and a haughty yet stern look on his face, head tilted upwards slightly in a stance of pure control confidence. There was an almost mocking air to the look, as if he possessed some grand secret, or knew something no one else did.

The figure.

The nameless man from his dreams.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual line really. Feel free to leave some feedback! ;)  
> Till next time :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't upload this as quickly as I did on FF, but it's here now. Some mysteries will be answered in this chapter, if vaguely ;)  
> Oh, and I'd be interested in hearing what people think the portrait exactly is ;)  
> Hope you all in enjoy it!

He stood stock still, mouth still agape, still transfixed by what he saw before him. Had the dreams been less vivid, less real, he’d have dismissed the whole thing as some small trick played by his subconscious mind; given all he’d been feeling, simply passing a portrait, glancing at it briefly, could be all that was necessary to manifest this apparition in the night.

Yet, there was a part of him, some instinctual part of his mind that told him irrevocably, that this was anything but. Somehow, and on some level, it was real, as was the man who’d appeared before him twice now.

Heart still beating as if he’d run a marathon, Harry took a slow step forward, legs suddenly weak and almost not existent beneath him, then another, until he was directly in front of the framed image. His eyes roved over the image before him, taking in each and every detail; there could be no doubt in his mind, this was the man who’d begun haunting his dreams.

Blinking, breathing softly, he lifted a hand, overcome with a strange need to touch the painting, to feel its surface.

“Who the hell are you?” Spoken softly, with a dreamy quality; his hand was but a mere inch away now, his mind foggy, as if he’d been given a sleeping draught.

“Bah! Don’t waste your time; you’d have more luck conversing with a brick wall”

Harry stepped back, snapped out of the daze immediately by the gruff voice that seemed to come from a little way off to the right. Mind clearing, he turned his head, seeking the source of the voice, quickly zeroing in on a portrait depicting an elderly wizard in a large armchair, sipping from a jewelled goblet, beady eyes focused on Harry, assessing his worth. The wizard in question had a waistline that would rival the Fat Friars; and must have been at least as old as Dumbledore, and of course, he hadn’t the faintest idea who the elderly wizard was.

Feeling a faint blush rising on his cheeks at the almost condescending tone the portrait seemed to be using, Harry walked towards it, flashing a slightly embarrassed smile.

“Umm, if you don’t mind me asking Sir, do you know anything about him?” he gestured behind him, still smiling “His name? Who he was? I’d be really grateful”

The beady eyes seemed to grow smaller, darker, whilst bushy eyebrows that almost resembled squirrel tails arched down in a disapproving frown.

“Impetuous boy , I am a Lord. Not a librarian” the portrait snorted, indignation and apparent annoyance flaring from every painted fibre of his being “I do not make a habit of answering questions; but, if it will remove you from my sight, I will tell you this. I have no knowledge of the man it represents, nor could I ask him if the mood took me”

The elderly wizard leant forwards in the great chair, waving his jewelled goblet as if trying to emphasize a point.

“The portrait possesses no magic. It does not talk, does not move” He relaxed back into the chair again, putting the goblet down on the table next to the chair, and waving his hand at Harry, effectively dismissing him “Why someone would place a _muggle_ monstrosity like that in here is beyond me. Now, begone”

Nodding his thanks, Harry rushed off down one of the corridors that lead off the room, trying to ignore the irritable ravings of the portraits inhabitant that followed him; it seemed that the Lord was rather insulted by Harry’s ignorance where his identity was concerned. Whilst he’d found out next to nothing, one thing did stick with him. The wizard had inadvertently suggested a sensible course of action: go to the library, or at the very least, talk to the man who ran the Auror library; a wizard in his early to late 80s, who’d worked in the Auror department in one fashion or another for around 60 years. If anyone had answers concerning what was in the department, or on its walls, it would be Monroe Layfield.

_xxx_

During the short walk from the circular room to Layfield’s office, or a small uncluttered corner of the library as it in fact was, Harry had been able to settle his nerves and calm his mind, at least to some degree.

In such a short space of time, his life had been turned on its head, more so than it normally was. Having sex with an old school rival, being accosted by his closest friends and having his recently acquired status as an unregistered animagus dragged out of him. This was, of course, all forgetting the latest mystery Harry found himself embroiled in: the identity of the dream man.

And it was in that pursuit that the dark haired male with eyes as green as emeralds found himself picking his way through the Auror library, trying his best to avoid the plethora of heavy tomes that seemed content to zoom from shelf to shelf, or those that drifted lazily through the air, like a leaf in a light breeze. It was a deceptively large room, packed with bookcases and boxes and sealed containers that rattled and howled. If there was any order to the dim room Harry had yet to figure it out, regardless of how many times he’d been in there to check a fact for a case, or some other endeavour.

Eventually, Harry managed to negotiate his way to the back of the room and the secluded area referred to as an office, having dodged a number of large trunks that seemed to lunge at his feat when he passed them. Taking a breath, he stood still, surrounded by the musty scent of old books and the gentle flutter of paper; it was silent, peaceful, but eerie. More than once, he’d suspected that Layfield had cast silencing charms on parts of the library, effectively sealing individual areas off from each other. With the noise some of the items made, it was an effective countermeasure.

Harry looked around the small areas briefly, taking note of the small desk piled high with pieces of parchment, inkwells and quills, and the small chair squashed against the wall. But, there was no sign of the man in question. He sighed in frustration, clenching his fists, if Layfield wasn’t at his desk, then he’d be next to impossible to find amongst the shelves.

Shaking his head, Harry turned around to head back the way he’d came, eyes focused on the ground and avoiding the rolls of parchment that had chosen that moment to roll across the floor towards some other part of the library. Stepping over them nimbly and turning yet again to watch them roll off as if they had a mind of their own, cursing under his breath at the almost chaotic way things were charmed in the room, Harry failed to notice the man standing behind him. In fact, he remained unaware of the presence until the individual spoke.

“Hello Harry”

Harry’s heart seemed to skip a beat, and then began pounding at twice the normal speed, not quite jumping in surprise. He spun around, unable to do anything but smile warmly when he saw who it was.

“Bloody hell Monroe, you scared me” Still smiling, he couldn’t help but laugh. The old man was deceptively fast and quiet, not to mention perceptive. It was believed by many in the department that Monroe Layfield was an exceptionally talented Legilimens, not that anyone could prove it. He was a wizard known for his secrecy, his love of long silences, and his avoidance of social contact.

“An unfortunate habit, it would seem” Monroe smiled faintly, and inclined his head; hands clasped behind his back “Were you looking for something Harry?”

Direct and straight to business as always; it was a trait Harry had come to find comforting, if only because Monroe never asked anything personal, never tried for a proper conversation, simple kept things friendly but strictly on the topic of Auror matters, or general knowledge inquiries. The only time Harry had seen the mainly faintly passionate and conversational had been when he’d met Hermione at a Christmas party. The two had spent most of the evening sitting in a corner debating the finer points of theoretical magic, and the history of the Ministry.

“Umm, yeah, I was actually. Well, looking for you. I was wondering if I could ask you about something?” Harry couldn’t help but blush slightly, embarrassed at being crept up on so easily.

“Of course you may. Please, let us sit down for a moment”

Monroe gestured past Harry, back towards the desk, and began walking before he received a reply. His steps were brusque and efficient, making no sound on the stone floor. Harry trailed behind him, wordlessly, gratefully accepting the small chair Monroe conjured on the opposite side of desk for him.

When the pair were seated, Monroe leant forward in the small wooden chair he sat in, arms resting on the desktop, fingers linked, and dull brown eyes staring intently across at Harry.

“So then, what may I assist you with?”                      

Harry took a breath, wondering slightly how to phrase the question without directly saying he’d been having dreams about someone, and that someone happened to have a portrait in the Auror department. Maybe just general curiosity? Though his conversation, or disagreement, with the Lord did spring to mind, if an explanation was called for.  His green eyes flicked slowly over the work space again, before settling on Monroe. When standing, the wizard in question was much taller than Harry, towering over him. His hair, which was kept short and neatly combed, was a dazzling white, creating a stark contrast with his brown eyes and often equally brown robes. Despite being overly thin, almost gaunt, he seemed to radiate an air of robustness, as if he were impregnable. What made him so important to the department, and truly made him stand out, were his intellect and his memory. On more than one occasion, Harry had thought the man would have made a brilliant professor at Hogwarts, possessing the perfect mixture of patience and knowledge, if not for his habit of shunning humanity as a whole.

“Well, I was wondering about one of the portraits in the round room....I don’t know if it’s got an official name or not” He swallowed, voice more level than he’d thought it would be “Of a, um, man...maybe a little older than me? The one that isn’t magic? Do you know who he is?”

Monroe smiled faintly, and tilted his head forward, an action Harry assumed to be a small nod.

“Yes, I know which one you speak of” His eyes seemed to bore into Harry’s very soul, making him shift in his seat, uncomfortable under the scrutiny “Who told you it isn’t magic?”

“Ummm, one of the other portraits. Lord...something-or-other with the goblet and temper?” He could almost feel himself turning bright red, for no other reason than his lack of knowledge.

“Ah, Lord Mal Hoban Tighe. An acquired taste, as our....residents go” Still smiling, the elderly wizard leant away from Harry, relaxing back into his chair “He is, however, entirely wrong. The portrait you’ve enquired about most certainly possesses some form of magic; you see, it’s more the case that no one is certain _what_ that magic is”

Tilting his head towards the ceiling, Monroe seemed to settling himself into place for what might prove to be a more lengthy explanation than Harry had at first assumed.

“To answer your original question: no, I do not know who the man in the painting is. To the best of my knowledge no one does. My predecessors worked tirelessly on that very conundrum, trying to identify him, all to no avail. There are no markings on the painting whatsoever that might point to an identity” He shifted slightly, flexing his long fingers “Based on his attire alone, I’d assume he was alive around the time of the Hogwarts Founders, but that is nothing more than a rough estimate, and one founded on less than solid reasoning. If we knew something, even the smallest indicator as to who he may have been, then research would be possible. Without a starting point, it’s a wasted endeavour”

Monroe furrowed his brow, and exhaled slowly, as if trying to locate something deep within the recesses of his mind.

“I’m sorry to say Harry, but the only other thing I can tell you is that it seems resilient to any efforts to charm it, and bring it ‘to life’, as it were. Which is why I say it is most certainly possesses some form of magic; even the most rudimentary spells cast on it either fade away, or are repelled” The elderly wizard chuckled slightly, fixing his stare on Harry once more “In short, it’s something of a mystery. A little piece of office trivia”

During Monroe’s answer, Harry’s heart seemed to drop, falling ever faster as time went on. It was a long way from the answer he’d have hoped for; he was, simply put, disappointed and disheartened. However, despite those feelings, Harry still managed to smile, though the strain behind it was obvious.

“Thanks Monroe. You can’t tell me what you don’t know" Harry did his best to cover a yawn, and readied himself to leave, already halfway out of the chair before the elderly wizard spoke again, his words capturing Harry’s attention once again.

“One moment more, if you would Harry” He raised his hand slightly, indicating that Harry should sit back down “There is, perhaps, one more piece of information that may be of some interest to you”

“Go on....” Harry settled back into the chair, eyes fixed on the man before him.

“It has always been my belief that one should provide all the information they have, even when some of it is....little more than tosh” He chuckled slightly, eyes crinkling with affection, smiling almost apologetically “You know as well as I do that some Aurors are....just a touch too fond of their Firewhiskey. So, when they stumble in here, smelling of their drink of choice; insisting that they’ve touched our mystery picture and received gruesome visions, one, well, dismisses such things as the drunke......”

While Monroe was speaking, the colour gradually drained from Harry face, leaving him pale and near deathly looking. Muttering a very brief thanks, he rushed to his feet, almost falling over in the process, and hastened from the room, heading towards his modest office for the second time that day, barely registering the amused chuckle that served as Monroe Layfield’s version of a goodbye.

_xxx_

Some hours later, Harry was still seated in his office, the department slowly emptying for the evening. He’d done his best to finish off what little paperwork there was concerning the wasted interview with the would be Death Eater earlier that day, and had then lapsed into a state of silent contemplation, considering what little information Monroe had been able to provide whilst instinctively practising a number of spells he’d recently come across. Some small offensive spells and a few hexes that might prove useful somewhere down the line.

He’d always enjoyed the DADA lessons at Hogwarts, had especially enjoyed teaching the members of Dumbledore’s Army. Since the war’s end, he’d began practising as many spells as he could come across, a plethora from all the disciplines, all with the intention of improving himself. It was one of the reasons he’d began to study the Animagi discipline; the other side reason being that the study of magic was immensely calming and soothed his mind, distracting him from the misery and loneliness that festered there. It was a form of escapism for him, and the Animagus training had been exceptionally effective in that regard; the concentration and skill required was so great that he found himself completely distracted for a fair length of time.

He could have gone home some time ago, but a niggling thought had kept him in the office. Since his meeting with Monroe earlier that day, he’d been unable to shake one thing the elderly wizard had said.

_“You know as well as I do that some Aurors are....just a touch too fond of their firewhiskey. So, when they stumble in here, smelling of their drink of choice; insisting that they’ve touched our mystery picture and received gruesome visions, one, well, dismisses such things”_

As soon as Monroe had said it, Harry had been unable to prevent his mind from recalling an event from his past. An event during his second year at Hogwarts, where he’d been inadvertently pulled into a diary that had been written by Voldemort, or Tom Riddle as he’d been known then. When he coupled that with the dizziness and desire to touch the painting, Harry couldn’t help but wonder if the painting, like the diary, was a Horcrux. But made by who?

“Come on Harry....” He muttered to himself, leaning forward and resting his head in hands, dismissing the thought “I’m in damn Auror department. Someone would notice magic as dark as that”

Sighing, he shut his eyes, and contemplated returning to his apartment, and salvaging what was left of his weekend; after all, the next day was Sunday. He stood from his chair, and made his way to the door, and out into the hallway. The lights had dimmed significantly, giving the department a gloomy, deserted feeling. Everything was still, silent; he could have been standing in the middle of nowhere, instead of at the heart of the most important building in Wizard London. Basking in the silence and the solitude, Harry began to walk the corridors, simply letting his feet lead him where they would, as he had on many other occasions. It was oddly relaxing. Before long, he found himself standing in a room he’d been in earlier that day, the circular whose walls were covered in paintings; his subconscious evidently at work.

Glancing around in the semi gloom, his emerald eyes quickly fell on the one that had remained unchanged, the picture of his mystery man, still as coolly arrogant and superior as the first time he’d seen it; as the first time he’d seen _him_.

“My mystery man?” He laughed, a short sarcastic sound and shook his head slightly, an equally sarcastic half smile forming “There must be something seriously wrong with me”

Clenching his fists at his sides, he strode forward, shoes clacking against the floor as he went, earning some muttered admonishments from a few of the portraits. In a matter of moments, Harry found himself standing before picture, eyes fixed on the unmoving blue ones on the canvas.

“This is so fucking stupid.....” he muttered to himself, raising one arm and letting his fingers ghost over the surface. He felt nothing, no pull, no dormant magic. It was lifeless.

Feeling suddenly emboldened, and dismissing the whole activity as a product of a tired mind, he pressed his palm to the picture, the slightly rough texture feeling odd against his skin. A moment later, his whole body shook, a cold shiver passing down his spine and making him gasp. He blinked, slowly realising his vision was starting to blur, his mind fogging over, making the simple act of pulling his hand away near impossible. He tried to move, but his limbs had stopped cooperating.

He could feel the world starting to spin, his consciousness starting to slip away....it was as if he’d drunk far too much, and was but a second away from passing out.

“Oh...sod it.....”

The ground seemed to vanish beneath him, and his world faded to black.

_xxx_

Some hours later, now out of the bath and awake from the inadvertent nap, Draco was sitting in the small room he’d adopted as his own study, clad in a black bathrobe with silver trim, night clothes underneath. It was nowhere near the size of his father’s, but Draco had no intention of hosting extravagant parties, and drinking with the upper echelons of society. They were the people who’d nearly brought the world crumbling down, and he wanted nothing to do with any of them.

The room contained little more than a number of bookshelves filled with texts on potions and alchemy, a large desk, the chair he sat in behind it, and a sofa tucked against one wall; a small statue of a serpent sat on his desk, along with midsized wooden chest of dark brown wood, the locks polished gold in colour.

Draco breathed in deeply, and ran his hand over the smooth surface, gently pushing the lid open and peering at the contents within; trays filled with little bottles filled with a purple liquid, shimmering gently in the subdued light of the room, a small labels just visible.

The blonde couldn’t help but smile, a sense of pride welling in his heart; Missy had done a fabulous job of bottling the Dreamless Sleep potion and packing it away, apparently not even needing a direct instruction. She was a truly standout house elf. He still couldn’t shake the confusion at his sudden desire to assist someone, especially when that someone was Harry Potter, but he did his best to push that reservation aside, and simply follow things through and see what happened. Go with the flow, as some muggle had said once. Gently shutting the lid, Draco reached for a piece of parchment and his quill, now having to tackle the oddly difficult and daunting task of writing a note to Harry.

Quill hovering over the stark white surface of the parchment, Draco found himself in a position he’d never been in before, feeling a sensation that was entirely alien to him. He was embarrassed, and at a complete loss when it came to what he should say. Was it usual for friends to inexplicably brew each other large batches of potions?

Draco wasn’t certain, again being reminded of the sad fact that he’d never really had a friend, just those who clung to name for the prestige and possible advancement it offered them.

A small smile formed on his handsome face, when he realised that, perhaps, that was exactly what he should say. Confidence flooding back, Draco set quill to parchment and began composing a note to Harry Potter, with a small inclusion at the end that made him grin even more.

_xxx_

Once inspiration had hit, the note had been easier to write than Draco had at first thought. Having read over it once or twice, and finding himself satisfied with the result and the wording, he rolled the parchment up tightly, and sealed it with dark green wax, complete with the Malfoy crest.

Twisting the now sealed note in his hands, he found himself suddenly overcome with intense embarrassment, a light blush creeping up his pale cheeks. With a complexion like his, even the smallest blush became immensely noticeable. Deep down, and regardless of how much he did not want to acknowledge it, he felt worried; worried that the dark haired wizard would say no.

Pushing that sensation aside for the time being, Draco placed the letter on top of the chest.

“Missy, I have a task for you” he called quietly, voice as calm and levelled as ever, masking his inner emotions.

Almost immediately, the small house elf appeared before his desk, the crack from her apparition less noticeable in the confines of his study. He arched a light blonde eyebrow when he saw her, suppressing a laugh; it seemed that at some point during the day the elf had exchanged her purple wig for a bright green one. With pink streaks in it.

“Missy....I don’t recall the last time I saw something as hideous as that wig” Draco did his best to subdue the grin that was threatening to spring forth, but was unable to. The hilarity of it getting to him.

“Yes Master Draco. Missy is liking hideous” Her large head tilted up, expressive amber eyes twinkling cheekily through the curtain of green and pink “It is making other house elves jealous”

Draco snorted, the sound distinctly unsophisticated, grinning even wider at the small creature; earlier reservations suddenly forgotten.

“Yes, I’m sure you’re the envy of every house elf in Wizard England” the blonde drawled, no real malice in his words, simply amusement. He gestured at the chest and the note on the desk “Missy, I need you to deliver this to Harry Potter for me”

“It is Missy’s pleasure to do what Master Draco commands” she bowed her head, long ears and even longer multicoloured wig pooling on the floor by her feet. Snapping her fingers, the chest and note floated through the air and hovered next to her.

She looked up at the blonde, large amber eyes expressive and content, at least by house elf standards. She cocked her head to the side, much like a dog, still looking at Draco.

“Where is Mr Harry Potter residing?”

“He....Shit” A sudden sense of panic overcame him “I have no idea, we apparated there”

Draco realized as soon as he opened his mouth that he’d never actually asked for Harry address; which made contacting him again somewhat problematic, unless he went the long way around and sent any messages to the Ministry. If he did that, there was always a chance the notes simply would not get through, more than a chance actually, given all the ill will still aimed at the Malfoy’s.

“Missy will be finding him for Master Draco” The small creature puffed out her chest, a wide smile appearing on her face, high pitched voice showing clear signs of excitement.

“Good. I expect nothing less” the panic subsided slightly, silver eyes boring into amber ones “Missy, if Harry calls for you, answer him”

The eccentric elf bobbed her head in acknowledgement, ears and wig bouncing slightly with the exuberance of the action. A moment later, she vanished along with the items. Self imposed task accomplished, Draco stood from the high backed leather chair, and made his way over to a small cabinet tucked into the corner of the room. He bent slightly and opened the small door, retrieving two of the items held within. The first was a cube shaped crystal decanter, beautifully crafted, intricate designs swirling around each side, filled with an amber liquid. The second item was a crystal glass of a matching design with a flat circular base and a short stem, sides curving upwards gracefully.

Draco returned to the chair, placing the items on the table and falling into the relaxing confines of leather. He removed the shockingly heavy crystal lid from the decanter and poured a good measure of the amber liquid into the glass, before resealing it.

The blond picked up the glass, gently inhaling the scent of the liquid, then taking a sip. He smiled, the expression full of satisfaction and contentment, savouring the flavour. Sometime ago, he’d discovered the wonder that was brandy, and more precisely, Remy Martin. He’d never looked back since that first sip, years earlier. Now, he had only to hope that the items he’d prepared for Harry would reach their intended destination.

_xxx_

_Harry felt himself falling, wind whipping around him. He felt weightless; his heart was pounding, panic and adrenaline rushing through his system as he fell further and faster until.....until he came to a sudden stop. There was no pain, no impact; he was falling one moment and standing on his feet the next._

_Slowly, he opened his eyes, willing himself to relax just a little, though failing. Taking a deep breath, Harry took a look at his surroundings, and found himself feeling intensely confused by them. He was outside, and standing in what was perhaps the most beautiful place he’d ever been in his life. All around him there were hills covered in grass and vegetation, stretching as far as the eye could see, seemingly stretching up into the very clouds themselves, faint traces of small streams winding this way and that. The wind still blew, causing him to shiver. It was cold here, and peaceful. The only thing that marred what would have been a perfect place was the lack of colour. Everything was grey, just like the world in Tom Riddles diary._

_“Guess it was more than too much to drink then” Harry ran a hand through his hair, turning on the spot once more “Where the hell am I?”_

_Seeing nothing around him that would give any answers, and no people, he sighed in exasperation and made his way to a nearby rock, settling himself onto its cold and unforgiving surface. His mind began to wonder, unable to deny the fact that with a little colour, the place would have been perfect for a romantic day out. Hiking amongst the hills, trace a stream, sit under a tree with a picnic; he smiled, indulging his imagination a little more, as he began to see himself doing precisely that; accompanied by a young male companion, someone graceful, with a cutting wit and....._

_His day dream came to an abrupt end when an explosion rocked the area, followed by loud screams and what he was certain was the smell of smoke and burning. Jumping to his feet immediately, wand out within a matter of seconds as his training and instinct dictated, he spun on the spot, seeking the source of the sounds, instantaneously noticing the pillar of smoke rising behind a nearby hill. Heart beginning to pound yet again, he ran towards the smoke as fast as was humanly possible, stumbling up the hills uneven side. When Harry reached the top, he came to a sudden stop, eyes widening at what he saw beneath him._

_The hill overlooked a small village, no more than 10 or so cottages....at least what he assumed had once been a village. Now, it was nothing more than smouldering piles of debris. Between the remains of the small buildings, he saw something that rocked him to the core, causing bile to rise in throat. The ground was covered in bodies, burned beyond recognition; and in the centre of it all stood three figures locked in perpetual movement, spells flying between them. Or, to be precise, it seemed that two of the figures were locked in a duel with the third. Of the pair, one stood out. Whilst Harry couldn’t make out any definitive details from this distance, what he could tell was that this particular figure was not using a wand, in fact, the figure seemed to be using something roughly the height of a man, and required two hands Whatever it was seemed to spin faster than the eye could see, the figure moving with it, casting and deflecting spells with ease. Trying his best to push the nausea aside, he stumbled down towards the scene before him, intent on at long last finding some answers._

_Running full pelt now, Harry reached the figures in no time, skidding to a stop before the three, wand outstretched. Panting, he lowered his arm, remembering that this wasn’t real and he was powerless to act. Whatever this was, it had already happened, and would play out regardless. So, he simple stood and watched, examining the three people; two men and a woman. His eyes immediately locked on the man and the woman, fighting side by side with such ease it would seem; his breath caught in his throat when he recognised the male. The Mystery Man, who was dressed much the same as always; tunic coming to his knees, trousers, and boots. Eyes flicking over to the woman at his side; young, clad in a tight yet practical outfit of dark coloured leather, long brunette hair tied back. Her movements were graceful, each with a defined purpose._

_The Mystery man had come to a standstill, staff shifting before him in a two handed grip. To Harry’s eyes, it looked cumbersome and ungainly, yet the person wielding it made it seem easy. Watching the pair, he couldn’t help but feel some level of envy at their apparent skill; they were impressive, significantly more capable than any in the Auror department, probably better than those who were in the Order._

_At last, he turned his eyes to the third person, the one who seemed to be the focus of this duel. Clothes nothing more than rags caked in dirt and grime, face partially obscured by long greasy black hair, slowing backing away from the other two. Though what really stood out was his expression, one so insane and maniacal it made Bellatrix Lestrange seem like a harmless kitten._

_It was at this moment that the apparent stalemate came to an end. A bolt of red erupted from the filthy man’s wand, hurtling towards the witch, somehow evading her defences all together. Her beautiful features twisted in pain as she crumbled to the ground, thrashing and twitching in the dirt, howling in pain. Harry didn’t need to hear the incantation to know the Cruciatus Curse when it was cast; memories of its effects flooding through him. The Mystery Man’s attention flicked to the woman at his side, the concern and dread evident for all to see, though it quickly turned to pain and shock when he was thrown off his feat a moment later, coming down hard on his shoulder when he landed, staff flying from his hands_

_A single distraction being all that was needed._

_“Pathetic, miserably fools!” The third figure screamed at them, laughing hysterically, the madness evident in his voice “Why do you defend these creatures, these muggles? They should be ground to dust, removed from existence! Instead, we hide from them, when we are the superior beings!”_

_“Because....they are humans, the same as you or I Enos” Harry watched, as his Mystery Man slowly struggled to his feat, clutching his side, glancing at the now silent female. Judging by her thrashing, the curse was still in place “Their lack of magical talent does not mean that their homes should be burned, that they should be slaughtered!”_

_“But that is precisely what it does mean! They are inferior.....it is a simple fact” The dirt covered wizard, Enos, began pacing back and forth, seemingly more erratic and unhinged than a moment ago “It IS simple. Why can’t you see it?”_

_“I have no desire to see them destroyed. Wizard kind may be superior, but that does not mean we have the right to sweep them away like dust and detritus” He took a step forward, limping slightly “I took an oath, Enos, to protect the world from those like you.....those who seek destruction and chaos for their own pleasure”_

_“People in your profession are so dreadfully inconvenient” Enos laughed again, coming to a stop and facing his opponent, wand quivering dangerously “I could have been cleansing the world of its filth. Instead, I had to rot in that cesspit you call a prison. Though this lovely little village made me feel much better; watching it burn was....beautiful”_

_“You are delusional” The man grinned slightly, the arrogance and self confidence Harry had grown used to seeming to return. Slowly, the man straightened, hand straying to an item attached to his belt, the sword Harry had seen in their last encounter “Come with me peacefully”_

_“I’d rather torture that pretty wife of yours further” Enos grinned and evil grin, the madness and malice in his voice almost tangible, making Harry’s stomach twist in disgust._

_Harry glanced at the prone woman, her body had stilled, the curse at last having come to an end. Whilst this was a replay, he felt a slight sense of relief knowing that her suffering had at least stopped for the moment._

_“Then the outcome is certain Enos”_

_Harry watched with rapt attention as the two wizards stood facing each other, doing nothing. They each seemed to be waiting for the other to act, the wind whipping around them. The odd stalemate continued for a number of minutes, until both men exploded into action at the same moment, causing Harry to jump in surprise._

_“Avada Kedavra!” screeched Enos, crooked wand thrust forward with as much malice as was possible._

_“Oppugno” chanted at the same time by the mystery man, aristocratic voice carrying through the air, hand gesturing at a pile a burning wood, then at his opponent._

_Harry couldn’t help but gasp as he watched the bolt of deadly green magic fly through the air, only to explode against the wood that flew into its path, the resulting explosion causing Enos to flinch and take a step back, momentarily distracted. Harry’s eyes grew wide as he watched the man he’d seen in his dreams grin triumphantly and jog forward a few steps, only to begin shimmering slightly, blurring and shifting. If it were possible for Harry’s eyes to grow wider, they would, as the answer to one question made itself very evident. Within a matter of moments, the man’s form had completely altered into that of a large bird, something akin to an eagle, soaring into the air high above._

_“Shit.....you’re an Animagus” Harry muttered, unable to drag himself away from what was playing out before him._

_For Harry, time seemed to slow down at this point. He looked on, watching Enos stare about himself in confusion, trying to pinpoint his opponent but to no avail._

_The bird swooped down behind its target, coming in at an angle as if hunting in the wild, wind ruffling its feathers. It screeched, the sound still chilling Harry to bone, causing Enos to swiftly turn on his heel, finally seeing the creature flying towards him; only to drop his wand and take a hasty step back in abject terror as the bird hurtled towards him. He shrieked and stumbled back further, inadvertently tripping and landing on his back, momentarily stunned. Harry watched as the bird flew over Enos, coming to a stop a few steps from him and morphing back into the form of the Mystery Man._

_Laughing softly to himself, he slowly stepped forward, unsheathing the sword at his hip whilst Enos clambered to his feet, a hint of terror now marring the madness. The man raised the sword, sunlight flashing off the blade, just highlighting intricate engravings along its surface, point now level with Enos’s chest._

_“Petrificus totalus” Spoken softly by the mystery man, causing Enos’s body to go rigid, limbs locked together, unable to move and rooted to the spot._

_“When this was forged, I requested that the core of a wand....one I’m compatible with, be placed in the handle. A small experiment that came to fruition, as you can see” The haughty manner had returned, he seemed almost conversational, but there was an edge to it, a cold focus that scared Harry._

_“You are a despicable creature Enos, your crimes against the muggles enough to warrant your execution, or remaining in a cell for the rest of your worthless life. However, you threatened the woman I love......” The man trailed off, cocking his head slightly to the side; still completely calm and controlled, contemplating his next move._

_“Avada Kedavra” As the words were spoken, the blade seemed to glow a faintly for but a moment, the energy flowing through it and out the tip, directly into the dirt covered form of the wizard known as Enos. His body crumpled to the ground, inert and lifeless._

_Without a glance back, the man spun on his heel and made his way over to the woman’s form, falling to his knees beside her, sword discarded on the ground next to him. Gently, the man lifted her slightly, and began to cradle her head in his lap._

_Harry gulped, nausea returning yet again. Seeing such a dispassionate.....execution, for that was the only word for it....left him trembling inside. Trying his best to force the feeling away, he approached pair, curiosity for the moment getting the better of him. As he drew closer the world began to fade, lose focus, signalling that things had reached their end; the memory, or whatever it was, was soon to be over._

_He came to a stop before the pair, the world quickly being swallowed by blackness. Looking down at them, he noticed that the woman had opened her eyes and was smiling gently at the man, one delicate hand cupping his face, wiping away a single tear._

_Before the scene faded completely, Harry heard one final thing, the soft voice of a woman, cultured though tired, strained, in obvious pain._

_“I’ll be okay Al...don’t worry”_

_xxx_

Head spinning, Harry stumbled back from the picture. He looked around himself widely, relieved to find himself back in the Auror department, instead of.....wherever the hell he’d just been. Feeling suddenly faint, the dark haired male collapsed to his knees, slumping forward onto his hands and promptly throwing up on the tiled floor, eyes watering and stomach heaving painfully, expelling what little he’d eaten that day.

Harry somehow dragged himself to his feat, even with the world still spinning around him, and managed to apparate back to his apartment, directly into his bedroom yet again, collapsing on his bed and passing out almost immediately.

_xxx_

Harry awoke slowly; his head pounding as if someone were using it as a drum. He groaned softly and sat up, grimacing slightly at the foul taste in his mouth.

“Right, I threw up.....over the Ministry floor” he said softly to himself, gingerly standing up “Just bloody fucking brilliant”

Moving as if in a daze, he made his way out of the dark bedroom and into kitchen, not bothering with glasses and drinking water straight from the tap. After a few mouthfuls he pulled away and turned the tap off, sighing in satisfaction. Feeling a little better, he made his way to his living room for no other reason than wanting to postpone sleep a little long. The possibility of another dream visitation left him feeling nervous, especially after what had transpired in the picture.

The nonchalant way the killing curse had been implemented suggested a familiarity with it that only came through frequent use. That fact alone was enough to make Harry weary of the figure, yet.....so much of what he’d said, not to mention the concern for the the female companion, his wife, painted a different image all together.

Cursing under his breath in frustration and exhaustion, he did his best to put it out of his mind, instead turning his attention to something mundane and easily dealt with, that being, bringing a little light to his pitch black living room.

When he stepped through the door he flicked the light switch on the wall, bathing the room in a soft light. Being raised as a muggle had lead to a certain appreciate of the way they did things, and lead to him still using numerous pieces of muggle technology.

 Looking around the room, his eyes were drawn to a fairly large box sitting on his coffee table; a box that most certainly had not been there that day. Frowning in confusion, he made his way towards it, gently lowering himself into one plush armchair and pulling the box towards him.

The first thing he noticed was that calling it a box would have been an inaccurate description, it resembled a chest more than anything else. The second thing that caught his eye was a piece of rolled up parchment on the table next to it, sealed with wax, stamped with what looked like a large M. When he realised what it was he gasped quietly; it had been years since he’d seen the Malfoy crest.

With a small smile he first opened the chest, completely ignoring the slight mystery that was how it had found its way into his apartment, eyes widening at what he saw within; trays filled with small potion bottles, all filled with a purple liquid. Pulling one out, his smile grew larger as he read the small label, written with a swirling script.

“Dreamless Sleep.......Draco, did you get this for me?” spoken quietly to himself, almost in awe of what was there.

Placing the bottle back, he broke the seal on the letter and unrolled it, eyes slowly taking in the same swirling script.

 

**_Harry,_ **

**_Writing things like this is, perhaps, not something I’d normally do, let alone sending a gift with it; but in this case, I felt I simply must._ **

**_When you awoke from your nightmare that night and told me how frequent they are, I was reminded of a time in my own past, and the torment it caused me. So much so, that as soon as I got back to the Manor, I brewed you a gift, contained within the chest; it’s a large batch of my own Dreamless Sleep potion, significantly more efficient than what you’ll have had before. Half a vial should be enough for the one night.  I hope it brings you some peace Harry._ **

**_But, that is only one of the things I wanted to say. I enjoyed spending the evening with you, getting a chance to talk with you properly, and I hope there will be many more in our future. You see, I think you may well be the first true friend I’ve ever had, even though we’ve spent so little time together. In that short space of time, I found myself happier than I have been in a long time, enjoying life instead of merely drifting through it, all thanks to your company. So, with that in mind, would you perhaps do me the honour of dining at the Manor with me this Friday?_ **

**_I’ve instructed my house elf Missy to answer you, should you call for her with a response._ **

****

**_With warmest regards, and the hope that I’ll see you soon,_ **

**_Draco_ **

****

Throughout the letter, his grin seemed to grow wider and wider, a warm swelling sensation growing in his chest, something akin to joy; for some reason, he felt like he could be the happiest person in the world at this moment.

Still holding the letter reverently in his hand, he settled back into the chair, for the moment entirely forgetting the hellish experience with the painting a little while earlier, and wishing for nothing more than it to be Friday tomorrow, and for all the days in between to vanish.

For a happy moment, he forgot his work, forgot the man appearing in his dreams, forgot about Ron and Hermione and everything that had happened in the war; instead, his mind was focused on nothing but the prospect of dinner with Draco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Till next time :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a lot longer than I hoped, but life has been rather stressful. Tends to kill the writing mood :(  
> This is kind of a half chapter. I finished it before I'd intended to, so you all had something to read :)  
> Hope you all enjoy!

It was Sunday morning, and Harry was reminded of a simple, irrevocable fact that he’d somehow come to forget. Draco Malfoy was a true genius when it came to potions. Whilst he’d seen the blonde brew things often enough in their Hogwarts days, he’d never had the chance to truly appreciate his talents.

He’d awoken slowly, comfortably wrapped in his duvet, face buried in his pillows, bedroom blanketed in the perpetual darkness he preferred to sleep in. A few hours later, he was still there, sitting propped up in bed, having only just finished a simple, if late, breakfast of toast slathered in butter and marmite with a large mug of strong tea.

The night had been peaceful, one of the most peaceful and truly refreshing nights he’d had in years. The Dreamless Sleep provided by the blonde wizard had worked wonders, putting him out within a matter of minutes and keeping any nightmares away. Harry was also shocked to notice that the potion did not taste like some unholy mix of dog shit and toilet water, as practically every other potion he’d taken seemed to taste of. The potion he’d been forced to drink in his second year at Hogwarts to re-grow the bones in his arm ranked as, perhaps, one of the worst, those Polyjuice was a very close second. Since it was Draco’s own recipe, he’d assumed the blonde may have added something to improve the taste, in fact making it taste vaguely like camomile tea. A distinctly vast improvement.

Smiling softly to himself, feeling light and happy, he shifted his charmed breakfast tray to the side, slipping out of the luxurious confines of his bed and making his way into the lounge, clad in nothing but a pair of boxershorts. Particularly tight ones, that clung to his body, leaving very little to the imagination; but, there was no one there to appreciate the sight.

Settling himself onto the sofa, warming charms adjusting to his bodies needs, he again focused on the two items he’d received the night before that were still sitting on the table top. The chest of Dreamless Sleep potions and Draco’s letter.

A small smile flitted across his handsome features as he picked the small piece of parchment up and reread it, the words still making his stomach flutter, making the small smile stretch into an ecstatic grin. Biting his bottom lip slightly, he summoned his writing supplies to the coffee table and set about writing a response.

_xxx_

Close to an hour later, Harry had finished writing his letter, having screwed it up and hurled it against the far wall on more than one occasion, never feeling entirely satisfied with what he’d written.

Green eyes skimming across his living space, he noticed five pieces of crumpled up parchment, little balls lying strewn across the carpet. His earlier failed attempts. He couldn’t explain it, even in his own mind, but he felt the need to write something as close to perfect as he could. Now, content and more than a little embarrassed with the effort he’d gone to, especially since it was _just a letter_ , he gently folded the note and slipped it into a small envelope, then scrawled ‘Draco’ across the front.

“Missy, could you come here please?” Harry called uncertainly, wondering why he’d been granted the use of the elf, even if just as a messenger.

A moment later his mouth fell open in shock when the elf he assumed was Missy appeared on his coffee table with a small popping sound, large amber eyes blinking at him, accompanied by a cacophony of hissing and snapping.

“Mister Harry Potter sir! It is Missy’s pleasure to be meeting you” she bowed low, ears flapping, then straightened and looked at him again “How can Missy be helping you?”

“Umm.....You’re....Missy? Draco’s house elf?”  He stuttered, shocked and somewhat confused with the sight before him. He’d encountered many house elves since he was first thrust into the magic community, though Missy seemed to be in a class of her own.

He let out a shaky breath, eyes skimming over the floral hand towel she’d wrapped around herself, then immediately being drawn to the source of the snapping and hissing.....the elves head. Or, to be accurate, the mass of brightly coloured snakes that sat there, writhing and biting the air. Pink, green, yellow, and a vibrant shade of blue; it was perhaps the strangest thing he’d seen recently.

“Indeed! I am being Missy, house elf of the honourable Master Draco” She bowed again, eyes twinkling brightly, noting what Harry was staring at. She grinned and patted the snakes “Are you liking Missy’s wig?”

“Ah...yeah, it’s lovely. Really” Harry stuttered, unsure what to say since it was a truly awful wig, but, he couldn’t bring himself to hurt the little creature’s feelings.

She smiled brightly and curtsied, long ears fluttering slightly; the move looking quite odd on a house elf, especially one with her dress sense.

“Thank you Mister Harry Potter, you are being too kind to Missy”

“So...Missy” Harry smiled at her, trying to gently move the exchange back on topic, and away from the mass of multicoloured wig snakes. Ever since his encounter with the Basilisk, he’d developed a dislike for them “Could you give this to Draco please?”

He held out the envelope, wincing slightly when one of the wig snakes drifted close to his arm, seeming as if it were about to coil around the limb. Oblivious to his nerves, Missy accepted the envelope in one small hand, holding it against her chest with reverence. She bowed again, the snakes momentarily coming even closer to Harry. He had the strange sense a pink one was looking at his nose too intently, as if it wanted to bite the appendage.

“Missy will do as Mister Harry Potter asks” She spoke solemnly, as it was the most important thing anyone had ever asked her to do.

“Thanks.....Please though” He blushed; vaguely embarrassed and uncomfortable with the respect and deference he was being shown. He’d never liked it when Dobby had spoken to him that way “Just call me Harry. Not Sir or Mister Harry Potter. Just Harry”

“Harry”

She smiled one final time, large amber eyes fixed on his green ones and large head cocked to one side before vanishing, leaving him alone in his apartment.

Smiling to himself, he relaxed back in the armchair, hoping to hear back from Draco soon, and hoping to figure out exactly what to do with the rest of his Sunday.

_xxx_

“Missy...please tell me you didn’t answer Harry wearing _that_?” Draco asked, voice sounding strained, quivering slightly from embarrassment.

He’d only just sat down in the Manor’s large and well equipped kitchen when Missy had appeared before him; clad in her standard floral hand towel and one of her somewhat stranger wigs, though it was a stretch to call it a wig. In Draco’s opinion, it was closer to an atrocity than a reasonable fashion statement. Not that Missy had ever shown a single sign of regard for what most humans would call ‘stylish’.

“Wearing what Master Draco?” Missy cocked her head to the side, the move reminiscent of a dog; high-pitched voice confused.

“That monstrosity sitting on your head” He ground out, now feeling vaguely worried about the impression the eccentric elf may have given.

“But Mister Harry Potter was liking Missy’s wig! He said so!” Missy squeaked in response, large amber eyes blinking up at Draco through the fringe of multicoloured snakes.

“Of course he did...”The blonde rolled his silver eyes, a faint sigh of exasperation passing from his thin lips. Leave it to Harry blood Potter to tell an eccentric house elf that she looked good in a costume wig modelled after Medusa “You have his response to my letter then?”

“Yes Master Draco” Missy bowed low, her ears and wig brushing the light grey stone floor she stood on, thin arm stretching forward, envelope held in her hand “Mister Harry Potter was giving this to Missy”

Leaning forward, Draco took the envelope from the small creature, grinning slightly when he recognised the scrawl Harry was known for. On many occasions during their time at Hogwarts, the blonde had wondered how someone as famous as Harry Potter had ended up with handwriting worse than a two year old under the effects of the Cruciatus Curse.

. Silver eyes skimming over the looping scrawl that read ‘Draco’ on the envelopes front, he couldn’t help but feel a small flutter in his heart and stomach, something strangely akin to being nerves, with a hint of dread.....what if Harry had changed his mind, and was no longer interesting in pursuing the friendship?

“Thank you Missy, that will be all” He maintained the cool Malfoy mask, dismissing the small elf for the time being, leaving him seated alone in the kitchen, letter lightly gripped in his hand, mind abuzz with expectations and memories of the past.

When he’d found himself living here alone, and with little to no prospects in terms of a possible career, finding things to occupy his time with had become paramount. Whilst his constant study of potions, and later the discovered passion for alchemy, abated the boredom somewhat, he’d still been left craving more. It was then that the study and care of the Manors Dark Artefacts had begun to interest him.....but again, it wasn’t fulfilling; and so, rather suddenly and for no reason other than lack of anything else to do, he found himself standing at the back of the kitchen, watching the house elves preparing his dinner one day.

Watching them at work, the blonde found himself interested by the process, intrigued by the care and attention given to each ingredient. So very much like potions. The next day Draco had taken a trip to muggle London, buying a large supply of cookery books covering cuisines spanning the globe, only to begin experimenting with them the moment he’d returned home. What he’d quickly come to realise was that he had a love for the act of cooking, much as he did with potions work; the simple process of preparing the ingredients, and then cooking them, gave him a sense of calm and could keep him occupied for hours. And, if his mother was to be believed, then he was exceptionally good at it, though he’d not had the opportunity to test his new found interest on anyone else, aside from himself. Lucius never visited, and he had no friends to speak of, which left Harry.

Mind refocusing on the small piece of paper in his hands, he slid the neatly folded note out of the envelope, unfurling it with a reverent touch, eyes eagerly raking over the untidy writing within.

 

**_Hey Draco!_ **

**_Thanks for the Dreamless Sleep, that was so sweet of you! You didn’t have to go too all that effort on my account though. Took some last night, and it was the best I’ve slept in years; no nightmares, no weird dreams....just peace._ **

**_I’m glad you liked spending time with me; I loved spending time with you too! And I want to spend more time with you. Work is always so hectic, but I’d love to have dinner with you on Friday. If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to get away for about 6pm, and floo directly to the Manor. Is that okay with you?_ **

**_That evening with you.....it was the happiest I’ve felt in a long time. Thank you for that Draco. Already missing your company, and I’m really looking forward to dinner!_ **

**_See you soon._ **

**_Harry :)_ **

****

Draco set the note carefully to the side, just on the table top; he could feel himself smiling, perhaps one of the biggest and most genuine smiles he’d ever had. He could also feel himself blushing, cheeks aflame and heart pounding with the force of beating wings.....all because of a simple letter. He was somewhat taken aback at his own reaction to it, having never found himself so eager to spend time with someone before. Yet, it made him happy. Knowing that his one time rival enjoyed his company so much, not to mention wanted to continue the association seemed to brighten his day and his life.

Whilst the blonde would admit it to no one, he’d become dreadfully lonely, caught in a dark post-war fog of solitude and repetitive loneliness. He hoped this new found friendship would be the cure for it, a way of ushering in a new era of existence for him, one where he could be happy, and enjoy life for once. And, on an entirely lewd reasoning, spending more time with Harry might lead to more long nights spent fucking each other’s brains out. It was a thought that made Draco grin devilishly.....and may have caused his already tight trousers to become tighter.

Doing his best to shift his mind away from certain dark haired wizards and the deliciously toned and tanned body hidden beneath said wizard’s clothes, Draco made his way out of the Manor’s kitchen, towards his bedroom to retrieve one of his many travelling cloaks, this one black with an emerald green trim. Very Slytherin in nature. When paired with his tight black trousers and silver shirt, it made for a dashing and sophisticated look.

He paused long enough to write out a quick response, stating that 6pm was a perfect time and depositing the hasty note with Missy and the instruction to deliver it to Harry. Now, money and wand secreted away on his person, he stood before the Manor floo point, mind awash with possibilities for Friday’s dinner. It may have only been Sunday, but the blonde was a fan of preplanning. Breathing deeply, he stepped into the fireplace and vanished, reappearing a moment later in The Leaky Cauldron, and from there, onto Diagon Alley, perhaps the best place in Wizard England to do your shopping, even if it happened to be grocery shopping. Whilst he had more than enough food in the Manor, Draco loved buying fresh produce too much to let this opportunity pass him by.

_xxx_

The days passed slowly for Harry; work proving to hold no enjoyment or excitement, whilst his mind could do nothing but look to Friday. He lived in a constant state of anticipation and excitement, counting down the days till the week came to an end. And so, on Wednesday afternoon, Harry found himself seated in his office at the Ministry, feet propped on his desk shooting small balls of light out of his wand at the ceiling, watching them vanish in a small, essentially harmless explosion on impact; with nothing more meaningful to do with his time. No urgent cases, no more dream visitations, just what had become an endless correspondence with Draco; Harry couldn’t remember having ever written or sent so many letters before. Not that he actually objected in the slightest, receiving a message from Draco had become a highlight of the day for him. He’d quickly come to realise that talking with Draco was perhaps one of the easiest and enjoyable things in the world.

What this did, however, was keep his mind away from his experience with the painting. A part of him longed to question the mysterious ‘Al’ about what had happened, about the duel and the callous execution of the wizard called Enos. Yet, at the same time, he found himself wishing never to set eyes on the man or spectral apparition again, longing for the semi peace he’d had for a number of years. He’d gone so far as to have avoided going near the picture for the last few days, and had avoiding speaking with Monroe on the off chance the elderly Wizard brought the topic up.

However, his mind was soon distracted from such idle worries when a loud redhead burst through his door, grinning madly, startling him and causing him to drop his wand, bringing an end to the exploding balls of light.

“Harry! Have you seen what’s in those muggle food machines my Dad brought in? They’ve got these muggle chocolate bars...they’re like a coconut mush covered in chocolate!” Ron gushed before stuffing one of the mentioned bars into his mouth, still talking “They’re so good Harry. Have you had one?”

“Uh...yeah, I’ve had one” Harry grinned over at the redhead, feeling elated at the sight of him. They hadn’t crossed paths since Ron and Hermione had turned up in his flat that Saturday morning, and he was relieved to see nothing had changed between them “They’re called Bounty Bars. Loved them growing up”

“Bounty? Huh, okay” The redhead mumbled, mouth still full. He flopped down into the chair across from Harry, pushing his feet off the desk and swallowed audibly “Almost as good as a Chocolate Frog. Almost”

“Didn’t get to eat them much. Dudley used to take mine. And everyone else’s” Harry’s voice was soft, no trace of anger present. Whilst he may not speak with any of the Durseleys, he didn’t hold any anger towards them, not any longer at least.

“Fat git” Muttered Ron, wiping his fingers on his uniform robes, looking momentarily unhappy about not having any more chocolate to eat “Mione wants you to come over for dinner this Friday. You free mate?”

“Uh...” Harry stuttered, blinked a few times. He HAD promised to come over for dinner.

“Not a problem mate” Ron smiled across the table, no hint of disappointment “You know I don’t want to push you into things”

“No no, it’s not that Ron...” Harry could feel himself turning slightly pink “It’s just...I’ve kind of already got plans that day...”

“Plans? Really? What plans?” Ron leant forward, eyes twinkling suddenly, ginger eyebrows lost in the fringe of his equally ginger hair. He grinned suddenly, making Harry squirm in his seat “Is it a guy?”

“It’s a guy...sort of....” Now the dark haired wizard was most certainly blushing, and stumbling over his words almost constantly “And it’s not like that Ron”

“So what _is it like_ Harry, my old mate?” He leant forward further, eyes still twinkling brightly with curiosity and humour.

“Well.....Draco invited me to have dinner with him at Malfoy Manor” Harry smiled as brightly as he good, endeavouring to ignore the heat in his cheeks and the look of incredulity he suddenly found himself receiving.

“Draco Malfoy? The bloody ferret?” If it were possible for Ron’s eyebrows to move any further into his hairline they would have, though his bright blue eyes had clouded with something akin to curiosity “I don’t want to push mate, but is there something going on between you two? First he shows up at your flat and Mione blushes every time I ask....”

“It’s not like that Ron, honestly” Harry cut him off as quickly as possible. Whilst he didn’t enjoy his friends questioning his actions, Ron wasn’t as pushy when it came to answers “We’re just friends. He’s actually a really nice guy, nothing like the pompous bastard we met at Hogwarts....he even sent me a box of Dreamless Sleep potion...for my nightmares”

“For your nightmares eh?” Ron grinned again, this time wider, his meaning clear “And how exactly does _Draco_ know you have nightmares? I mean, you’d have to see someone sleep for that, or sleep with them....”

“Um...oh” Harry’s blush seemed to deepen as he squirmed in his seat under Ron’s intense gaze; he wouldn’t have found it so embarrassing if Ron wasn’t right.

The dark haired wizard began squirming even more when Ron laughed triumphantly, clapping his hands together a few times. The redhead shook his head slightly, smiling ruefully.

“I knew it. I knew something happened between you two!”

“It was just the once!” Harry all but whined, wishing they could discuss anything else, so long as it wasn’t his sex life “We drank too much, that’s all!”

“You don’t have to explain it to me mate” Ron raised his hands in a soothing gesture, trying to settle his obviously embarrassed friend, though still grinning with glee “Honestly, I’m glad you’ve got some action, might cheer you up a bit”

“I don’t need cheering up” Harry glared at the redhead slightly in mock annoyance. He was having trouble resisting the wide grin threatening to erupt across his face.

“Whatever you say Harry” Ron grinned at the dark haired wizard again, before taking a breath and fixing him with a serious look “Can I say something?”

Harry gave a quick, tight nod. He had a sudden feeling he wasn’t going to like what his best friend was about to say, and had a suspicion Hermione may have said it already. He knew they were just looking out for him, but he didn’t like the memories that they stirred.

“I get the feeling you know what I’m about to say, but be careful” Ron smiled sadly, blue eyes no longer as bright as they once were “I don’t want to lecture you, Mione does that enough.....

“Just don’t to attached. Like I did....” He took a breath, finding it hard to continue “Like I did with Michael, right?”

“Exactly. Look, I won’t say any more on it mate” Ron smiled again, trying to lighten the mood, now it had been said, briefly resting a comforting hand on Harry’s arm “You and Malfoy being friends, or whatever, it’s fucking weird man, he was an arse growing up....but if he cheers you up, then I’m all for that”

“Thanks Ron. Really though, it’s not...”

“Not like that. I know. You already said mate” Ron chuckled slightly, then stood up and stretched his arms above his head, letting out a long, loud yawn “I should head off. Paper work, and so on. Fancy popping into the Leaky Cauldron for a bit after work?”

“Yeah, I would actually” Harry smiled at the suggestion, finding himself missing the quite drinks he used to share with Ron.

“Brilliant!” Ron beamed at Harry, clapping his hands together in a show of pleasure “See you later then”

With that, the redhead departed, closing Harry’s door behind him, leaving the dark haired male with a cacophony of emotions. The brief exchange had been awkward at times, though Ron’s support and acceptance of his new friendship gave him an odd sense of comfort. However, being yet again reminded of a certain individual from his past left his mind in turmoil, racked with the old longing and resentment that had festered, and for very good reason. It was hardly a relationship, just an arrangement of sex and mutual support between two people. Of course, as time had gone on, Harry had found himself getting closer and closer to the Ravenclaw student until, one day, he realised he was entirely in love with him. It was such a heady, overwhelming feeling, that soon turned to misery and despair, when he came to realise the object of his affection did not feel the same.

Still, years later, Michael Corner had a place in Harry’s heart and mind, and the unassailable position as his first, failed love.

_xxx_

Some hours later, Harry was again greeted by the sight of Ron bursting through his door for the second time that day in his usual flurry of disgruntled, chaotic energy. He, yet again, had a wide grin on his freckled face.

“Finished early. Fancy heading out now?” Ron’s stomach rumbled loudly, causing him to grin sheepishly at Harry “Guess I’m hungry too. So, uh, dinner as well?”

Glancing down at the pile of paperwork on his desk, Harry reached a decision within a matter of seconds. Pushing his chair back and springing to his feet, Harry found himself out of the office door with Ron at his side, quickly apparating to the Leaky Cauldron.

What had originally meant to be a meal out and a few drinks quickly became a night long drinking session, culminating in both wizards stumbling out of the pub at closing time, both making their way to their respective homes, only to collapse into bed almost immediately, each falling into an alcohol induced sleep with hangovers on the horizon, though Harry was the only one who’d wake peacefully, as Ron had a lecture from one Hermione Granger to look forward to; a lecture full of disapproving scowls, finger wagging, and an almost excessive use of the name ‘Ronald’.

_xxx_

Soon enough, Friday night had come around, and Harry Potter found himself standing in his bedroom, having come home earlier in the day to make what was, surprisingly, a very difficult and very important decision. That being, what should he wear. He’d never been one to put much attention into what he wore on a daily basis, something that came from growing up using the hand-me-downs from Dudley, all of which were far too big for him, and hung off his thin frame like a tent. Now though, whilst he’d bulked out to a degree and owned clothes that fit properly, Harry had never found himself worrying about the way he dressed. That was, until the prospect of dinner with Draco Malfoy had come up.

It was a strange feeling for him, to worry so much over something so small. Yet the blonde seemed to evoke that feeling in him, the constant desire to please and impress, and set his heart fluttering. Whatever the reason for it, it now caused him to discard shirt after shirt, hurling numerous sets of trousers and jeans into the corner of him room.....all because they _just weren’t quite right_!

With a mere half an hour left before he had to be at the Manor for dinner, he found himself in a situation where quick decisions were necessary, especially with the daunting task of tackling the wild mess that was his hair. He’d resolved that morning to make some effort in taming it, though it had never succeeded in the past. He was briefly reminded of a time when his Aunt had shaved his head bald as a way of combating the unruly locks....only to find that it had grown back just as long, and just as messily, the next day.

Entirely unsure as to what was suitable attire for the evening; the concept of formal or informal meal never having arisen in his correspondence with Draco, he found himself settling on a dark green dress shirt, and a pair of black jeans, each tight enough to hug his frame comfortably. He’d picked the shirt up in a muggle shop some months ago; an impulse buy that was meant to improve his mood. It had done no such thing, so Harry had thrown it into the back of his wardrobe, until now.

He held the shirt in front of himself, looking it up and down quizzically. The shop assistant had been certain it brought out his eyes, not that he was convinced. It had cost a little more than he was generally comfortable paying for clothes. Humming lightly to himself in an attempt to calm his nerves, pulled his clothes on quickly and efficiently, tucking the shirt in and securing the jeans with a black belt, before making his way to the bathroom to attempt the somewhat daunting task of taming his hair.

Sometime later, after trying gel, then washing it, then a brief attempt with a pair of summoned hair tongs, the dark haired wizard found himself giving up. Regardless of what he did, his hair remained at angles, jutting up as if he’d just been struck by lightning.

“Bloody hell.....” he muttered, sounding vaguely strained, running his hands through his hair, messing it up even more, now at least not resembling a hedgehog “May as well keep it this way then”

He stepped away from the mirror, letting out a shaking breath and regarding his appearance. Internally, Harry thought he looked a little ridiculous, but he felt an effort had to be made for the evening. He’d even gone so far as to cast a small charm on himself, something that acted as a magical version of contact lenses, meaning he could leave his glasses at home.

 Gently running his hands down the front of his shirt, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles, he made his way to the fireplace that served as the apartment’s floo point, picking up a travelling cloak at the same time. The floo flames had a habit of leaving soot on anything and everything in the immediate vicinity of its entryway. The fireplace itself had always looked exceptionally out of place in his otherwise modern apartment, but he felt it added a ‘homely’ feeling to the place, perhaps because he’d only ever felt at home with the Weasley’s or at Hogwarts; neither location was exactly a shining beacon of the modern world.

Swirling the simple cloak, black with a subtle red and gold trim, around his body, Harry took a small handful of floo powder, hurling it into the fireplace; involuntarily stepping back as the green flames flared outwards, lapping gently and unthreateningly at his carpet, before retreating into the stone alcove.

“Here we go” Feeling the excitement welling below his skin, feeling his heart pounding in expectation, Harry stepped into the emerald green flames, calling out his destination as he went.

The moment the words left his lips, he felt himself falling, tumbling, air rushing past him with such speed and force, reminding him of being on a broom, flying high above a Quidditch pitch. Different scenes flashed before his eyes, small homes filled by families drinking tea, offices filled with wizards and witches in colourful robes surrounded by floating objects and jars filled with strange liquids, what looked like the Ministry of Magic filled to the brim as always, dim shops, restaurants bathed in gentle candlelight, and finally......

Harry stumbled out of the floo network, blinking slightly, feeling vaguely disorientated. Even after so many years of using the floo system, he’d never grown accustomed to it, or found a way to disembark without nearly falling flat on his face, much like his first somewhat failed attempt which had ended with him in Borgin and Burkes with a pair of broken glasses, and narrowly avoiding the very person he was now going to meet.

Straightening himself and dusting his cloak off, Harry looked around the large room he stood in, a wide grin forming on his handsome features, eyes raking over the ornately carved columns, the plush rug stretching across the floor, the high ceiling, before finally settling on the figure standing a few paces on front of him, the only other in the room; standing rigidly, yet gracefully, hands clasped tightly behind his back, head tilted up proudly.

Slightly taller, clad in black trousers and a spotless white dress shirt, the top few buttons left undone. Dazzlingly bright blonde hair tied back into a ponytail, silver eyes flashing with joy and a wide smile that made Harry’s heart flutter strangely in his chest.

The Slytherin Prince, former seeker for the Slytherin House Quidditch team, school rival of the Boy Who Lived.

Draco Lucius Malfoy.

The pair stood still, smiling at each other, neither moving, neither speaking, just staring. Releasing a shaky breath, Harry broke the silence.

“Hey Draco” spoken softly, yet carrying across the space with ease.

“Harry” The blonde inclined his head, still smiling, words just as soft.

Harry stepped forward slowly, eyes leaving Draco momentarily to glance around the room. He’d been to the Manor before, but only to small sections, primarily the dungeons. This was the first time he’d been able to see the building in the light of day, and when it wasn’t under the influence of the recently deceased Dark Lord.  He couldn’t help but allow his mouth to fall open in awe, unable to deny the beauty of a simple entry point.

He was about to ask Draco a question when he felt himself being pulled into a tight embrace, pressed flush against the slim though muscles frame of the blonde. Unable to deny the chuckle welling forth, Harry grinned and wrapped his arms around the blonde, relaxing into the embrace and allowing himself to get lost in the scent of Draco’s cologne. It really was a lovely scent, masculine and refined, yet subtle at the same time.

“It’s good to see you Harry.....” Draco whispered against his ear “I missed you”

Harry felt himself redden at the words, though he couldn’t deny how happy it made him feel. Almost involuntarily, he tightened his grip on the blonde, drawing him closer.

“Missed you too”  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews, bookmarks, kudos, whatever you feel it deserves :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay with this. I've been bloody busy. Lots of beta work, started writing a book with a friend....suppose things have just piled up a bit over time.   
> Anyway, I'm back with chapter 7, and I'm hoping chapter 8 will be done soon as well.  
> Hope you all enjoy it :)

 

They stood before the Manor’s floo point, stock still and wrapped in an embrace so tender and intimate, so all encompassing that everything else faded away, that many would mistake it for that of two long lost lovers, instead of two young men who’d found a certain comfort in each other’s company, on an emotional and physical level.

Eventually, the pair parted reluctantly, both instantly missing the sensation of the embrace, grinning sheepishly at each other; silver eyes locked with emerald green ones. A comfortable silence had settled over the two of them, disturbed only by the faint crackling of flames dancing in the black sconces evenly spaced around the room, casting shadows that stretched and writhed along the walls like skeletal hands stretching for something just out of reach. The sconces must have been charmed, to so effectively illuminate a room so large.

“So, you...” Harry cocked his head to the side, a coy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, voice lilting with a teasing note “You missed me a lot, huh? If that hug is anything to go by”

“You seemed just as keen Harry” Draco drawled, his signature smirk quickly appearing “Unless I was imagining how tightly you were hugging back”

“Maybe I just like hugging my friends” Harry bit back playfully “Did you think of that?”

“No, never crossed my mind” He arched a blond eyebrow, silver eyes twinkling with amusement “I rather thought my natural good looks were the answer”

Harry bit his bottom lip slightly; eyes now travelling up and down Draco’s clothed body. He really was exceptionally attractive; pale skin clashing with dark clothes and hair that sparkled like white gold. There was an almost ethereal quality to him; beauty mixed with strength and poise. He glanced at the floor for a moment, at Draco’s black shoes; gleaming and spotless, perfectly complimenting the rest of his attire, and then moving back to Draco’s eyes. Eyes that had so much depth, so much emotion to them, more than most would imagine.

“I’ve never met anyone as handsome as you Draco. You stood out at Hogwarts, and you stand out now, so far from the rest” The words were softly spoken, earnest and heartfelt.

“Harry...I...”

All of a sudden, Draco found himself lost for words; his heart hammering in his chest, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and threatening to break forth. People had been complimenting him on his physical appearance all his life, yet now that it came from Harry Potter, his usual biting retorts or dry humoured responses failed him; not even a charming response that would evoke a blush or a giggle in so many came to him.

He was startled out of his thoughts when he felt a warm hand close around his, fingers interlocking as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He glanced down, seeing Harry’s tanned skin pressed against his pale skin, a calloused hand against his own comparatively smooth, creating a stark contrast. Heart still racing, Draco looked at the emerald eyes before him that danced with warmth and excitement.

“Come on, show me the Manor” Harry grinned at Draco and made a move towards the door, pulling the blonde along with him, black cloak flaring out slightly as he went “I’ve never seen your home properly before”

“No, I suppose you haven’t” A faint trace of regret had crept into his voice, his mind flashing back to the first time Harry had been to the Manor.

It hadn’t been a visit of choice. Towards the war’s end, Malfoy Manor had been occupied by Voldemort and what remained of the higher echelons of the Death Eater ranks, and had served as a prison for the Dark Lords victims. Harry had, for a time, been one such prisoner; though his identity had gone unnoticed, thanks to the blonde’s reluctance to identify the bloated and deformed individual that was a slightly cursed Harry Potter. Had he been able to dwell on the memory, Draco’s good mood would have faded; however, before he could, he found himself swept up in the enthusiasm and excitement that seemed to radiate from Harry with every second and every step within the Manor’s halls. He was wide eyed with awe, taking in every detail, every painting, every piece of furniture, reminding Draco so much of Harry’s first day at Hogwarts.

They walked slowly, hand and hand through the Manor’s corridors, Draco answering the multitude of questions Harry asked; ranging from who chose the decor, to where a decorative vase came from. It was rather endearing, Draco thought, to watch Harry stare with unabashed amazement at the Manor’s grandeur.

After turning into one of the manor’s many corridors, the pair found themselves looking down a hallway brimming with portraits. So many, that there was barely any free space left. Harry took a breath, and began to slowly make his way down the corridor, examining each portrait as he went, unable to miss the resemblance between each individual. Hair so blonde it shone in the light, even on the canvas, and silver grey eyes.

“They’re all related to you? Your family?” Harry turned to Draco, a trace of wonder in his voice.

“Every one of them. Generations worth of Malfoy’s, all in the one room” Draco stood at Harry’s side and gestured around himself, voice growing passionate as he spoke “The Malfoy’s have lived here for hundreds of years. The land was given as a gift to Armand Malfoy by King William I, after he conquered England. Exactly what Armand did for the King has become lost to time, but it’s an interesting fact”

“There’s so many of them. I wish I knew this many of my family” Harry turned slightly, facing the blonde, voice developing a coy edge “So....you’re family has always been involved with royalty and the important names in the wizard world?””

“Correct” Draco nodded, smiling down at the dark haired male before him “Well, it’s unclear at the very start. How Armand came into contact with the King is as much a mystery as what he did. But, since then, the Malfoy name has always been associated with greatness and power. Though the actions of certain Malfoy’s has tarnished the name somewhat”

“You’re talking about Lucius?” Harry squeezed Draco’s hand and smiled sadly.

“He supported a mad man, a homicidal maniac......and now, the Malfoy name means nothing” he sighed, the sound bitter and full of frustration “We’ve become social pariahs”

“You’ll change that Draco” Harry grinned at Draco, squeezing his hand yet again, hoping to cheer the blonde up. They’d been so happy, so care free at the start of the evening, yet a simple change in the conversation had altered that “I know you will”

He blinked, surprise written plainly across his face. Harry had uttered the words with such certainty, such conviction, yet Draco could not figure out why.

“What makes you so sure of that?”

Draco had always prided himself on maintaining his cool and his confidence, but he could feel both slipping. He couldn’t meet Harry’s eyes, unsure what he’d see there, unsure why someone who’d once hated him so vehemently was now offering reassurance.

“Because I think you’re a good man” Harry spoke softly, stepping slightly closer “The rest of the world will realise that”

It may only have been a few words, but Draco couldn’t help the cacophony of sensations that rushed through his body when he heard them. Shock, pleasure, a hint of embarrassment....all of which were wiped from his mind when he felt a soft set of lips touch his own. Ever so lightly, and for just a split second, now hovering a mere few millimetres from his own. The blonde smiled and allowed his eyes to drift shut, revelling in the intimacy that had suddenly descended over them. He felt a rough hand close around his free one, felt the lips return but with more force, moving against his own. He felt himself being backed against the wall, barely registered the muffled grunt of annoyance from whichever portrait he found himself pressed against. At another point, the prospect of being kissed so sensually whilst pressed against the portrait of a long dead relative would have been somewhat embarrassing, but instead, he found himself far too wrapped up in the sensation of being forcefully kissed by one Harry Potter, and the undeniable fact that Harry’s lips were oh so soft, and irresistible. The sensation of hot breath, of slick tongues slowly intertwining; the world faded for them both, leaving nothing but each other and the feeling of two bodies pressed tightly together.

The pair moved slowly, comfortably, though with a force and desire neither could miss, content with nothing more for the time being; though the noticeable tightening in each males trousers spoke of future possibilities, and a clear suggestion that more could happen.

However, that possibility was dismissed from their minds when a small popping sound echoed down the hall, followed by a slightly high pitched giggle.

Harry untangled himself from Draco and stepped away as fast as he could, stumbling over his own feet and nearly falling backwards into the wall opposite the blonde, generating yet another disgruntled grunt from a portrait. He could feel the heat in his cheeks, which were no doubt deep red with embarrassment, perfectly matching the shade of crimson Draco’s face had turned. It was a cute look for the blonde, Harry decided.  The pair turned towards the sound of the giggle, only to be met by the sight of Missy the house elf, clad in a bright green pillow case that almost resembled a dress, with a blue and orange wig.

“Missy is sorry for interrupting Sirs” her large amber eyes blinked at both wizards, an almost amused smile plastered across her face “But Missy was wanting to inform Master Draco and Mister Harry Potter that the food is being kept warm in the family dining room”

“Ah.....yes, thank you Missy. Harry and I were.....touring the manor” Draco cleared his throat, fighting to regain control of the slight shake in his voice, caused by a mix of embarrassment and excitement.

“Missy was noticing that, Master Draco” She bowed low, long nose and ears dragging across the carpeted floor before turning her gaze on Harry “Would Mister Harry Potter like Missy to take his cloak for him?”

Harry almost choked with embarrassment, having entirely forgotten he was wearing it.

“Yes, please. Thank you” Harry couldn’t help but stutter his way through the sentence, heart still pounding with the realisation that he’d just been caught by a house elf with his tongue down someone’s throat, more so when that someone was the house elves master.

“Missy is happy to serve” the small creature snapped her fingers, causing Harry’s cloak to vanish, before she herself vanished, apparating to some other part of the manor, leaving a pair of embarrassed wizards in her wake.

“So....” Draco cleared his throat yet again, the mask of control falling back into place “Shall we eat?”

Harry quickly nodded in response and followed Draco down the corridor, back the way they’d come; taking the chance to deliver a hard slap to the blondes arse on the way, the sound echoing in the corridor. The move caused Draco to smirk slightly, thin platinum blonde eyebrows raised, grey eyes glancing at Harry.

“Just reminding you that we need to finish that properly” As if a flick had been switched, Harry’s embarrassment had vanished, replaced by a sass and confidence, grinning as he walked next to the blonde “Maybe after dinner....”

_xxx_

Sometime later, they at last found themselves seated across from each other in one of the larger dining halls, which Missy had referred to as the ‘family dining room’, though Harry thought it was far too large and decorative to be reserved for family only. It was grand, impressive, exactly the type of room that would have been good for impressing guests.

They sat a dark wooden table long enough to seat twenty, plus an additional seat at each end, the respective heads of the table. It was covered in a deep burgundy table cloth, and the chairs, which were made of the same dark wood as the table, had matching burgundy cushions inlaid on the base and at the back, allowing people to sit and relax in comfort. They were perhaps some of the comfiest Harry had ever sat on. Charmed candles cast their glow along the walls whilst a crystal chandelier blazed above them, the light shimmering along the surface of the black glass placemats and matching coasters, pristine silver cutlery sparkling alongside them. It was a clash between modern and old, but it gave the room an almost chic look that could do nothing but work effortlessly, whilst retaining a class and warmth. Given how distant, how cold Lucius Malfoy had always seemed, Harry had always imagined that his home would reflect that, and found himself pleasantly surprised to be wrong. Despite its size, the manor had a homely feel to it, perhaps the influence of Narcissa Malfoy coming through. Though Harry had only interacted with her on a few occasions, their last meeting had shown the soft, motherly side of the woman, as well as a strength and dedication to her family.

Whilst Draco’s home had proven to be a shock, what was dominating Harry’s thoughts at this present moment happened to be the smell wafting its way throughout the dining hall, emanating from the selection of covered silver dished and plates that sat on the table between the two wizards. It was a warm, meaty smell mingled with the almost heady aroma Harry had come to associate with herbs, thanks to years toiling away in the Dursley’s kitchen. The combination had set his stomach rumbling, earning a few amused looks from Draco. Alongside the dishes and plates, two wine glasses, each filled with a dark red wine, and a large crystal decanter filled with the same dark red liquid, completing the look.

Tentatively, Harry reached forwards, wrapping his fingers around the delicate stem of the wine glass, bringing it to his lips, sniffing the dark red beverage first. It was strong, and not unpleasant in the slightest. Slowly, he took a sip, grimacing slightly at the sudden explosion of flavour in his mouth. He’d never drunk much wine in the past, tending to stick with an array of ales or Firewhiskey, though periodically returning to Butterbeer when he felt the need for something comforting.

“Not a wine drinker Harry?” Draco drawled, barely suppressing a smirk and a chuckle, as he watched the dark haired man eye the drink as if it were going to grow three heads at any given moment.

“It’s uh....just a little stronger than I thought” Harry replied, taking yet another sip, finding himself slowly growing accustomed to the flavour.

“I should hope so. It’s full bodied” he blonde grinned, reaching for his own glass and taking what could only be called a generous gulp, evidently used to the strong flavour “My favourite kind of red. This one is a rather pleasant Chianti”

“It’s good” Harry smiled, settling the glass back on the coaster, leaning over the table slightly, closer to the blonde, a faint trace of embarrassment creeping into his tone “I don’t really know much about wine”

“Part of the pure blood upbringing, you might say. Culture, etiquette, family history; and a knowledge of the more refined drinks” Draco chuckled, setting his own glass down “My mother used to spend hours quizzing me on how certain grapes are grown, how they’re blended with others, and the type of flavours they’ll produce. All, of course, with the goal of a future marriage”

“Sooo....you’ve been raised to be the perfect husband?” Harry couldn’t help but smirk, a sassiness entering his voice “Charming, suave, a true gentleman?”

“Exactly” Draco answered with a smirk of his own, grey eyes sparkling in the low light.

Harry grinned even more, his eyes gleaming playfully. Leaning back in his chair, he folded his arms across his chest, the green fabric bulging ever so slightly. He cocked his head to the side, a gesture that would have seemed appropriate on his animagus alter ego Marley.

“I’d never have guessed” The dark haired males grin seemed to grow wider with each word “I mean, you were such an arse”

Draco snorted, the sound completely mismatching with his usually so controlled and elegant persona. Try as he might, the blonde couldn’t help but chuckle slightly, his normally pale features developing a slightly pink tinge.

“Yes, I suppose I was in those days” The blonde continued to grin, amused and accepting “I do regret the way I used to behave. So caught up in my father’s rhetoric, in blood purity and being the very best of wizard society”

“It’s like I’ve got to see a whole new side of you this past week” Harry dropped the teasing smirk, settling with a gentle, warm smile “Getting to know Draco, instead of Malfoy”

“Is there a difference?” Draco returned the smile, curios about what Harry’s answer may be.

“Of course there is!” Harry said with force, eyes shining with affection “Draco’s sweet and caring. A gentleman, and even after just a week, I wouldn’t want to be without his company. Malfoy’s....”

“A dick, right?” Draco grinned, though internally he was trying to fight the giddy feeling that those simple words had evoked. It was like his heart had skipped a beat, and his stomach had performed a somersault at the same time.

“Just a bit, yeah” Harry found himself unable to resist laughing, seeing the blonde willing make a joke about himself was refreshing “Also behaved like he had a ten inch wand stuck up his arse all day long”

“There may well be something else up there after dinner you know” The blonde drawled, a glint in his silver grey eyes.

The remark was made idly, though it had the exact effect Draco was hoping for, causing Harry to involuntarily open his mouth in shock, his green eyes suddenly wide with shock, and more than a hint of excitement. Draco watched with some amusement as the man sitting across from him blinked in rapid succession before fidgeting in his chair, as if trying to get comfortable; however, the blonde suspected the move was triggered by the need to relieve pressure, due to a particular part of Harry’s anatomy getting larger.

“Speaking of dinner....” Continuing as if nothing had happened, Draco withdrew his wand from somewhere on his person and waved it over the table, the movement elegant and flowing.

Harry sat and watched in amazement as the various silver platters begin to hover around the table and rearranging themselves, gliding elegantly and leaving a trail of wonderful scents in their wake. When they’d settled back on the table top, the covers vanished, revealing the contents, and releasing the strong aroma of freshly cooked, piping hot food. The scent wafted around the room, filling every space with its strength, causing Harry’s stomach to rumble loudly. He licked his lips, leaning forward and examining the contents, eyes raving over the various dishes. Mashed potatoes, stuffed pepper halves sitting in a sauce of some kind, something long and crispy covered in various herbs that Harry couldn’t identify, and finally, large chunks of meat sitting in a thick sauce with vegetables; each dish complete with a large silver serving spoon.

A wide smile plastered across his lightly tanned features, Harry raised his eyes, fixing them on the blonde seated across from him, who at this moment, had a broad smile upon his face, sitting tall and straight, proud, like the true master of the house.

“Draco....this looks amazing. And smells just as good” Harry gushed, his eager gaze flicking between the food and Draco “Your house elves must be brilliant. Better than Kreacher”

There was something akin to awe in Harry’s eyes, an excitement that mirrored his feelings when he had his first meal at Hogwarts. Whilst this was nowhere near as large or extravagant, it still stood far above the meals he was used to having. Cooking and preparing food was not one of his strong suits, despite the years spent toiling in a kitchen, though he managed with simple meals and periodically eating out. London was full of restaurants and quiet pubs that he’d quickly grown fond of.

“Actually, I did this myself” For the briefest of moments, the usual confident grin vanished, replaced by a nervous smile, with a hint of subtle pride “Missy and the others weren’t involved”

“I didn’t know you could cook like this”

“I never used to. After leaving Hogwarts, I found myself with nothing to do” The blonde shrugged slightly “One day, I watched the house elves preparing my meal, and couldn’t help but appreciate the art to it, the concentration. Really, there’s not much difference between cooking a meal like this and preparing potions. The focus is still on how the components are prepared, how you cook them, and for how long”

“I think this is the first time I’ve heard someone compare cooking food to brewing a potion” Harry grinned, a playful twinkle in his eye “I’m not going to find any mandrake root or schisandra in this, am I?”

“My my Harry, I’m impressed you even remember the name schisandra” The blonde quirked an eyebrow in Harry’s direction, a lopsided grin plastered across his face, his tone somewhere between lecturing and amused “Though as it’s often used for dealing with erectile dysfunction, you won’t be finding it in your meals, unless you have a problem I don’t know about”

“I don’t have a problem like that” Harry mumbled, squirming in his seat under the amused gaze of the host “So uh…what exactly did you cook?

If it were possible for Draco’s eyebrow to travel up his forehead any further, it likely would have in response to the sudden shift in topic. Feeling more than slightly amused, his grin still in place; the blonde seemed to sit taller in his chair, back straight and rigid once again, every bit the proud host anyone would imagine a Malfoy to be, indicating each dish with a graceful inclination of one pale, fine boned hand.

“Peppers stuffed with taleggio cheese, with a walnut, garlic and lemon dressing; polenta cut into strips and lightly fried with a variety of herbs, a beef and red pepper stew; and mashed potatoes. Obviously”

Whilst the words may have been said with the old arrogance and smugness people had associated with Draco Malfoy, it was plain for any to see, or at least plain for Harry to see, that this was simply a mask to hide the pride and sense of achievement the host was truly feeling.

“It’s like I’m been invited to eat at a five star restaurant” Harry smiled softly, still feeling a pang of embarrassment from Draco’s earlier joke about getting hard, however accurate it may have been “Thank you. I think the only person who’s ever gone to this much trouble for me before is Molly”

“I am truly proud to stand alongside the indomitable Mrs Weasley” Draco drawled, no malice in his cultured voice.

“You’re such a dick sometimes” The brunette laughed, his mood lighter and more joyous than it had been all week.

“I’m being deadly serious. The woman defeated dearest Aunt Bella in a duel” Draco leant forwards, grasping the decorative silver serving spoon and transferring a large pepper half to his plate “That’s no small accomplishment, believe me”

From that moment on, conversation dwindled away, replaced by contented sighs and the small sounds of pleasure uttered by those completely satisfied by a meal; the gentle clink of cutlery on plates and bowls echoing softly around the room.

_xxx_

Sometime later, both young men collapsed back in their seats, resting against the dark burgundy cushions, stomachs full of rich food and wine. They wore matching expressions of contentment and their eyes drooped slightly with the comfortable fatigue that so often sets in after a heavy meal. Gesturing faintly with his right hand, Draco caused a small bell to sound somewhere in the room, though Harry couldn’t pinpoint its location. The sound it made was small, high, and surprisingly pleasant, unlike the often sharp ringing bells tended to make. A moment later, a group of four house elves, all unknown to Harry, appeared at various points around the table, collecting the remnants of the meal and the dirty plates, before vanishing with them.

“Merlin…that was good. So fucking good” Harry shut his eyes, breathing heavily, feeling slightly bloated “I haven’t had a meal like that in so long”

“And I haven’t had someone to cook for in a long time” Draco grinned back, rolling his head from side to side, sighing contently “I’m glad you enjoyed it, but I hope you have room for more”

“I don’t know if I can eat any more…..” Laughing, Harry shook his head, truly feeling as if he couldn’t eat a single bit more.

“But I went to so much effort Harry” Draco drawled, an almost cheeky smile adorning his pale, aristocratic visage “And it’s dessert. Who wants to miss dessert?”

Gesturing once again with his right hand, the small bell sounded its high pitched tone once again, this time causing three house elves to appear, Harry recognising each of them from the last summons. Two of them bore large crystal glasses filled with what resembled a layered dessert, whilst the third carried a silver tray. Two small crystal glasses with long stems sat atop it, a bottle of red liquid next to them. The desserts were placed in front of the two men, as were the glasses, which were quickly filled with by an elf with the contents of the bottle. Inclining his head slightly, Harry caught a brief whiff of the red liquid, it smelt sweet.

“Cherry tiramisu, with a glass of Mavrodaphne” Once again, the look of pride and confidence had resurfaced “A Greek dessert wine. Sweet, but not overpoweringly so”

Licking his lips, Harry eyed the new offering, suddenly finding the desire to consume more had returned when the sweet aroma of cherries, mingled with the delicate, nutty scent he immediately new to be almonds reached his nostrils.

“I’ll be as large as Uncle Vernon at the end of this” Harry muttered, a faint smiling tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Taking a deep breath, the dark haired male grasped the small glass, the surface cool and firm beneath his heated skin. Raising the glass to his lips, he took a sip of the red liquid, enjoying the blend of strength and fortified sweetness. As the alcohol induced warmth spread around Harry’s body, he set the glass aside in favour of the long handled silver spoon sitting next to the dessert, grasping the cool metal and almost visibly salivating as the spoon sunk into the smooth cream, cutting its way through a soaked cherry and into the soft biscuit base

“I guess I’ve got a little bit more room…..”

_xxx_

With the meal now ended, and both males officially full beyond any hope of eating anything more, they found themselves sitting in the Manor’s expansive gardens on a cushioned wooden bench. The bench was overlooking a small pond surrounded by some of the prettiest flowers Harry has ever seen; bright green stems ending in vibrant blues, deep reds, and yellows that would rival an abba costume, all neatly trimmed and arranged.

Though night had descended on the land, the type of all consuming night that one only ever found when it was November, the garden remained faintly illuminated. Balls of orange light hung in the air, casting their faint glow over the neatly trimmed, vibrant green grass and the rows upon rows of orderly plant life, each row more colourful than the next. The black sky was filled with brightly twinkling stars, each like a shining diamond, not a trace of the previous weeks heavy clouds anywhere it sight. It should have been cold, yet the garden remained comfortably warm, an additional effect of the balls of light, as Draco had explained earlier in the evening. All around them, they could hear the gentle chirping of crickets, the occasional whisper of the wind, and the faint hooting of an owl somewhere in the distance.

“It’s so peaceful here” Leaning back against the bench; Harry took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh, slightly sweet air that filled his lungs. 

“My mother used to spend hours out here, sitting and reading” Draco smiled softly, remembering a time before war, before loss and death “I’d sit out here with her, listening to a story, or just watching the world”

Tilting his head towards the blonde, Harry tried his best to imagine the scene. A young Draco, bright blonde hair long and falling around his ears, whilst the ever aristocratic and perfectly poised Narcissa Malfoy sat perched on the bench in a long dress, no doubt made of the finest materials, a book delicately clutched between her hands as she read to her young son, the sun beating down on them. It was an image of childish innocence, of a peaceful family, and seemed so far from the young Malfoy Harry had encountered for the first time all those years ago at Hogwarts. From the very start, he’d seemed hard, fully of arrogance and self entitlement, no trace of a child in sight.

Some part of him, the part Harry tried his best to ignore, wished that he’d been able to experience something similar in his childhood. Of course, it was nothing but a faint itch, a desire for history to have played out differently. He used to indulge it at every opportunity; now though, he rarely gave it a thought, unless something sparked that desire once again, instead contenting himself with what he had, and those he’d known.

“That sounds lovely” Still looking at the blonde, Harry shifted closer, ever so slightly “Growing up here must have been so…wonderful. So much space, tranquillity….it must have been perfect”

“It had its charms, though growing up a Pureblood isn’t easy. The pressure of expectance and family honour is on you from the moment you’re born” Draco turned his head, his silver eyes now locked on Harry’s green ones “What about your childhood? You were raised by muggles, correct? Was this Uncle Vernon one of them?”

“Yeah, I lived with my aunt and uncle, and their son Dudley. Aunt Petunia was my mum’s sister, but they weren’t close” Harry let his head fall to the side slightly, bringing it closer to the blonde, a wave of exhaustion washing through him “They hated anything to do with magic, anything that wasn’t completely and utterly normal. They couldn’t have been more boring if they tried”

“What was it like?” Draco’s voice was soft, inquisitive but undemanding.

“Fucking awful. Hogwarts was my escape, my real home” He paused, unaccustomed to sharing those experiences with other people, but he continued speaking none the less “They treated me like a house elf, forced me to sleep in a cupboard under the stairs. Bullied me, starved me, pretended I didn’t exist and treated me like shit…..just because I was born a wizard”

“I’m sorry, truly” Deep down, the blonde felt a simple sorry was inadequate; hardly enough to make up for years of misery, but it was all he could offer. Internally, he was shocked that Harry Potter had lived through so much, and had somehow remained so good, so noble. The other part of him, the part that had reared its head so often at Hogwarts, wanted to do nothing but hunt the muggles in question down and show them exactly what a real wizard could do, especially one whose entire life had been spend steeped in dark, forbidden magic.

As the years had gone by, Draco had come to realise that the anger and bitterness he was at times so well known for, and delighted at hurling at others, was the product of his upbringing. A by-product of being raised to believe that he, as a Malfoy, was superior to everyone else in the world.  

“I used to hate them…..now though…..they were just scared, forced into dealing with something they weren’t ready for and knew nothing about. I forgave them years ago” Harry laughed, and turned back to the pond “There were some good points growing up though. Meeting Lupin, my godfather Sirius, everyone in the order….Hermione and the Weasley’s”

“I never met Sirius” The blonde mirrored Harry’s posture, turning to the pond as well “I heard a lot about him from my mother though”

“She knew Sirius?” Harry glanced to his side, curiosity evident in his voice, so eager all of a sudden.

“They were related. My mother was born a Black; cousins, I think she said” As if by instinct, Draco moved his hand to the side, finding the heated skin or Harry’s hand, and lacing their fingers together, hot and cold fitting together perfectly “I never met him. As you probably know, he wasn’t popular among the Blacks, and by extension, the Malfoy’s. Or the LeStrange’s”

“I know. Disinherited because he didn’t hold the traditional pureblood beliefs”

“He sounded like a good man. Brave. Braver than so many others, my father  included” Draco squeezed Harry’s hand, shuffling to the side so their bodies were nearly touching “I can ask my mother if any of his belongs are stored in the Manor, if you like”

“Thank you, I’d like that” His voice was soft, and filled with gratitude, more than Draco would have thought a simple gesture would warrant “I don’t really have anything of his, just a few pictures. And the house….”

“I’ll send a letter tomorrow and ask” Releasing Harry’s hand, the blonde slipped his arm around his shoulders, drawing Harry closer to him “12 Grimmauld Place. The seat of the Noble Black family. I remember Aunt Bella talking about it….sounded like a dark, miserable place to live”

“It is. Kreacher keeps things in check, but I don’t like going there” Harry nestled into the blondes side, finding a level of comfort in the physical contact “Too many bad memories, and despite the damn thing being in the loft, you can still hear Walburga’s portrait screaming about mudbloods”

“That’s a sensation I understand” Draco shifted slightly, bringing his head to rest against Harry’s mass of soft black curls; his hair, Draco noticed, smelt fresh, like the sea “There are parts of the Manor that I don’t set foot in. My father’s study, some of the lower levels…..because those were the places that _You Know Who_ spent his time. Or his prisoners”

“What was it like, living with Voldemort under the same roof as you?” Hearing the name spoken aloud still caused Draco to shiver, the old fear response still present; he wasn’t surprised to notice Harry’s lack of response to what most wizards and witches had spent their lives fearing.

“To use an old muggle phrase, it was like walking on egg shells” The blonde sighed slightly, almost instinctively nuzzling Harry’s soft mass of hair “Living one moment to the next, not knowing if you’ll suffer a Cruciatus because he’s bored, not knowing if he’ll hurl a killing curse at you for not showing the _correct_ level of respect….”

“I think we’ve both had our fair share of shit in this life”

Gently, Harry sat up, bringing him eye to eye with Draco. He looked at the blonde, looked at the silver grey eyes that expressed so much more than people assumed, the flawless blonde hair that was almost white, tied back into a neat ponytail; the sharp angles of his jaw, the contrastingly vibrant pink of his lips.

Taking a brief breath, dispelling any vestigial nerves, Harry closed the gap between them, pressing his lips against Draco’s for the second time that night, his hand slowly trailing up Draco’s clothed chest, before finally resting against the blondes face, his thumb gently stroking Draco’s cool skin. Their lips moved against each other slowly, gently, in a kiss that was as much comfort as it was desire, both men settling against the bench, gradually wrapping each other in an embrace against the world.

_xxx_

The moon shone down on the Wiltshire countryside, illuminating all with its pale, ethereal glow. It was a still, silent night, the light breeze having died down hours ago, leaving everything at a standstill, as if it were a moment captured in time, destined to live on for a thousand years, there for the world to see. Never changing, never altering.

That is, all except for a dark shape barely visible against the night sky, seeming to deflect the moonlight. The shape moved quickly, angling down and banking west, towards a magnificent Manor House that sat in the distance, the only sign of habitation in the area.

As the shape approached the Manor house, it began to swoop down, close enough to the ground that if anyone had been there, they’d have been able to identify it is a large bird of prey, a magnificent eagle, sweeping over the wrought iron gates that separated the Manor grounds from the outside world, a large letter ‘M’ boldly standing atop the entryway. Moving without a sound, the bird glided across the grounds, heading directly for an upstairs window.

As the bird grew closer to the window, the creature seemed to change, almost imperceptibly, to all but those with the keenest eyes. Where once the moonlight seemed to bounce off its body, now, it streamed through the bird, as if it were nothing but a translucent illusion. The bird passed through the glass of the window as if it were a ghost, circling the dark room it found itself in, before settling on the floor at the foot of the king size four poster bed.

The bird began to shimmer, its shape becoming uncertain, quickly growing taller, wider…..until it no longer resembled a bird, but a man. A man with a sword clasped at his hip, a tall dark staff topped by a large red jewel clasped in his left hand, moonlight gently reflecting off a gold ring with a black stone at its centre.

The figure stood, staring at the bed for a few minutes, contemplating the occupants. Two men, shirtless, one with dark hair, the other long platinum blonde, wrapped in a tight embrace, fast asleep.

The figure smiled a small, sad smile, before turning on his heel and slowly walking across the carpeted floor to a chair in the corner, his knee length boots generating no sound. The figure sat down on the chair; back rigidly straight, a stray strand of black hair falling across his face.

“At last Mr Potter, we meet in the flesh”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual thing. Reviews, kudos, whatever you feel it's worth ;)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....this has taken me a long time to upload.   
> I met someone after I finished and uploaded chapter 7, so, in the standard fashion, I became rather wrapped up in the impending romance. I'm happy to say we're still together, and going pretty strong :)

 

The figure sat, straight and unmoving, his unnaturally penetrating gaze fixed on the pair in the bed. Harry Potter, saviour of the world, and Draco Malfoy, as he’d learned from Potter himself; not that the young man was aware of exactly how much of himself had already been laid bare. His life, his memories, his emotions.....all were there to be viewed and studied, if one knew how to.

Brushing the stray strand of hair from his forehead, tucking it back into place among the otherwise flawless locks, the figure finally looked away from the sleeping pair, allowing his eyes to travel around the room, taking in every detail. The room was a true display of wealth and ostentatious decor, completely with dark wooden furniture and a bed fit for a king. Or two kings.

Turning his gaze once more on the beds occupants, the figure allowed himself a moment to relax into the chair as his startlingly blue eyes drifted shut. He began to mutter under his breath, the words soft and inaudible, starting off slowly and gradually gaining speed, running into a steady stream of nonsensical sound few would recognize. As the chanting reached a near silent crescendo, the figures staff began to glow red; the soft light bathing the room in a strange glow.

Slowly at first, the figure began to see images in his mind; snapshots of past events, coming faster and faster, blending together into a mass of moving colour and sensations, emotions, none of which were his own. They belonged to another, to the young man in the bed, to Harry Potter.

Sweat began to bead on the figures forehead as the images began to slow, shifting from a mass of confusion to a singular event, a singular point in another’s life. He let out a breath, his body slumping back in the chair as his consciousness began to drift, a new reality forming around it. At the same time, Harry shifted slightly in the bed, a pained expression marring his otherwise peaceful expression.

_xxx_

_Harry found himself drifting in and out of consciousness, his body fighting to awaken. He longed to fight the sensation, and remain asleep, remain in the comforting blackness that permeated his nights._

_As consciousness returned to him, he began to notice that something was drastically different. He’d gone to sleep in a luxuriously comfortable bed with Draco curled by his side, and now......now he found himself on something very different; a cold stone floor, so hard and unforgiving. He opened his eyes, and found himself greeted by a blackness of a different nature; whereas sleep offered a pure darkness,  this was more an oppressive gloom, a gloom broken by light pooling in one corner, by shapes looming up around him, and a high ceiling just visible in the dimness._

_Slowly, Harry clambered to his feet, his legs slightly shaky beneath him, gingerly stepping towards the light, eyes raking over the objects littering the room. As his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, the shapes came into focus; large wooden crates stacked haphazardly, and tall ones that resembled tents. Stepping towards one such object, Harry placed his hand on the surface, only to find it predominantly soft and giving beneath his touch, though there seemed to be an oddly shaped metallic object beneath it. Grasping the soft section and pulling, sending a cloud of dust into the already musty air, Harry realized that he’d been touching a dustsheet; a dustsheet that had been covering a large telescope, so similar to those he’d used in Hogwarts, during Astronomy classes. They were good days, so long gone. Despite the constant threat of danger, and the less than usual education at the world’s foremost wizarding establishment, Harry missed those days dearly._

_He was broken from his silent reverie by a series of explosions form above him, followed by flashes of green coming from the corner, sporadically breaking the pale yellow light that  Harry could only guess came from flaming sconces somewhere above him, whilst the green......the green reminded him of the killing curse. As the small explosions continued, a sick, nauseous feeling began to pool in the pit of Harry’s stomach. Somewhere, at the back of his mind, things began to fit into a similar pattern: a sudden awakening in a strange place, a series of occurrences that seemed so familiar._

_And all at once, realization dawned upon him. He wasn’t awake. It was a dream, a replay of a moment in his life; just the next in the sequence that all featured his nameless visitor, the man who carried a sword and a staff, who Harry could only identify as ‘Al’, thanks to portrait with mysterious properties, and the words of the equally nameless woman within._

_Steeling himself for what he now suspected he would find, Harry hastened away from the telescope, making his way towards the pool of light, striding up the large stones steps he found there, spiralling ever upwards to the accompanying beat of steady explosions and flashes of green light. After what felt like an eternity he at last reached the top of the spiral staircase, though a large part of him wished he hadn’t. Stepping out of the stone alcove the seemingly endless series of steps terminated in, he found himself on a large landing filled with people, large decorative windows and flaming scones lining the walls. Some of the figures were in the black hooded robes of the Death Eaters, complete with silvery masks, whilst the other half wore the robes of Hogwarts students, intermixed with the varied ensemble of the teaching staff in dark greens, vibrant purples, deep crimsons, and a few sets in lemon yellow._

_He stood for a few moments, watching the hexes flying between the two parties, seeing figures going down on both sides, his heart silently aching for the ability to intervene, to stop it all.....though he knew it was nothing but a reply of what had once been. As the battle raged on, his attention was drawn to the other side of the room, and someone who stood apart from the rest._

_The figure rested casually against the wall, half way up the stairs opposite Harry, looking down on the battle with idle curiosity, as if it were but a passing distraction. Dark hair framed his handsome face in the same graceful and flawless fashion Harry had come to expect, the ever present black staff clutched in his hand. Harry scowled when he noticed the serene smiled on the other man’s face, as if the battle were somehow relaxing._

_“Why are you here? Why am I here?” Harry called, his voice barely carrying over the space and over the din of magical battle._

_The figure cocked his head to the side, seeming to consider Harry’s words. Gently pushing himself away from the wall, the figure began to walk down the stairs, his staff clacking on the floor as he went, the usually crisp and clear sound muted by the background noise. When he reached the bottom step, he paused, lifting his left hand and gesturing at the crowd. To Harry’s amazement, all movement ceased, as if the figure had pressed the pause button on a tv remote. Hexes hung in midair, figures stopped mid action, and all sound evaporated, aside from the sound of Harry’s even breathing._

_“Adequate questions Mr Potter, though the answers may wait for another occasion” The figure walked forth a few more steps, stopping amidst the frozen crowd “Do you recognise this place?”_

_“Are you ever going to give me a straight answer?” Harry muttered, sighing slightly in frustration “Yes, I know where we are. The Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts, the night that.....when.....”_

_Harry trailed off, the brief flash of aggression and fight suddenly leaving his system. The memory of Dumbledore’s fate still pained him, though he’d later felt some relief when he’d learnt about Snape’s role, and the fact that the world’s foremost wizard had planned his own death to further the fight against Voldemort and the Death Eaters._

_“Yes, the night that Death Eaters invaded Hogwarts. The night that your mentor, Albus Dumbledore, was killed” The figure glanced around the room, seeming to take in every detail, every hex hanging in the air “He was a great man, though I never had the pleasure of meeting him. A powerful wizard, privy to many things those of this age should not have known”_

_“He was great. Brilliant. Smarter than anyone else I’ve ever met” His voice grew quieter as he went on, a part of him unwilling to voice how much the older man had meant to him “Like the father I never had”_

_Sadness had crept into Harry’s voice, the anomalous situation momentarily forgotten, and would have remained so, had the curious side of his brain not been intrigued by something the figure had said, almost in passing. It was cryptic, mysterious, and exactly the type of thing he’s spent years poking his nose into at Hogwarts. Doing his best to ignore the tears that suddenly wanted to fall as they so often did when Dumbledore arose in conversation, Harry addressed the figure, a hint of curiosity in his voice._

_“What do you mean exactly? Things those of this age should not know?” Harry took a few hesitant steps forward, still unsure as to what danger he was in, but wanting a clearing, closer look at the face of the visitor “Do you know how he came about this knowledge, maybe what it was?”_

_Raising a dark, almost ornately shaped eyebrow in response, the figure narrowed his bright blue eyes slightly, a steely, almost irritated expression crossing his face, though it vanished within a heartbeat. Not before Harry caught it, however._

_“Do not try to coerce answers from me Mr Potter, it will not succeed” Whilst his voice was light, almost friendly, there was a threatening edge to it “However, to satisfy your curiosity.....What is taught to Wizards and Witches now is only a fraction of what is known. Inversely, those teaching only know a fraction of what was once known. The history of our kind Mr Potter is rife with discoveries that were forgotten, or were intentionally hidden by those with small minds. Dumbledore discovered many of these forgotten secrets, not necessarily for the better”_

_“And I assume you know some of these....hidden things?” Harry did his best to keep his voice calm, his outward appearance collected, when his mind was nothing but. It was reeling with the possibility that the nameless visitor had more power, and knew things Voldemort wasn’t even aware of. How much of a threat was he?_

_“You assume correctly Mr Potter” He smiled wolfishly and took a few more steps forward, still amidst the frozen crowd, but nearer to Harry “Now....I do believe it’s time for a question of my own”_

_“I don’t suppose I have a choice in that” Harry muttered, green eyes once again raking over the figure. Now he was closer, he couldn’t help but notice how attractive the figure was. Tall and lean, though muscled, and an aristocratic cast to his features._

_“Indeed you don’t” The figure smiled and laughed, the sound warm and friendly, far from what Harry would have assumed in the situation “Tell me, Mr Potter, are you in love with the Malfoy boy?”_

_Harry blinked rapidly in shock, his stomach suddenly flipping, his heart beating with the intensity of a heavy rock groups drum kit. He hadn’t expected his personal life to be so openly questioned, especially by the nameless figure, and not when he found himself in a dreamscape resembling yet another low point in his life._

_“How the fuck is that any of your business?” Harry snapped in response, disbelief colouring his voice._

_“Because, Mr Potter, I am curious” The hard edge had returned to the figures voice “I am curious as to why you shirk your comrades in favour of associating with someone instrumental in the downfall of your mentor, going so far as to seek physical and emotional comfort in this person”_

_“Your curiosity doesn’t mean a damn thing to me” Harry ground out, tension and anger now rippling through his body “What right do you have to pry into my private life? I don’t even know who the fuck you are”_

_The figure narrowed his icy blue eyes ever so slightly, running a strong though elegant hand through his thick hair. With the same hand, he gestured at the frozen crowd, causing the figures to shimmer and begin the fade. Harry watched on in silence as his surroundings began to shimmer and fade at the same time, the faint orange glow from the wall sconces fading. The whole area seemed to undulate, reforming itself in the form of a spacious room illuminated by pooling moonlight emanating from the multitude of windows. Looking around himself, Harry noticed that there were far fewer people; a small group clustered to the back of the room, the nameless figure standing to the side, and someone else over by a large window stretching from floor to ceiling. Even in the pale moonlight, Harry couldn’t help but recognise that person as Dumbledore, his long hair and equally long beard unmistakable._

_He swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. This could only be one thing, a moment he had no wish to revisit._

_“Are you just going to keep showing me points from my life? The deaths of my friends and family?”  His voice began to rise, anger once again flooding his body “Do you want your questions answered that goddamn much? I haven’t thought about loving Draco. All I know is that he gives me something no one else has since I.....since I killed Voldemort. He gives me peace”_

_The figure cocked his head to the side, studying Harry, causing him to squirm under the intensity of the gaze._

_“Tom Riddle was a threat to the entire wizard and muggle community. Why does his death affect you?” The figure seemed puzzled “You did what was required. You should be proud Mr Potter. You ended a scourge that threatened to consume the entire world”_

_“I can’t be proud of killing someone, regardless of how evil he was” Harry shook his head, fists clenched at his side “How are you so detached? You killed....., no, you executed Enos without a shred of hesitation. You immobilized him and cast the killing curse......”_

_The figure drew in a sharp breath, the sound so akin to an angry snake hissing. He strode forward rapidly, the tails of his red tunic flaring slightly, heavy staff echoing with each step. He came to an abrupt stop in front of Harry, head tilted down allowing his piercing blue eyes to meet Harry’s green ones._

_“How precisely do you know about Enos?” The figures voice was low, curious, though with an edge as cold and hard as steel._

_Harry swallowed and continued to look up into the eyes of the mystery man. As he did so, he couldn’t help but feel the power and resolve that emanated from the man, blanketing him and everything around him. Voldemort gave off a miasma of evil and dark power, whilst the mystery figure radiated control and the assurance that only came with age and experience._

_“I know about Enos because I found your Horcrux” Harry stepped forward ever so slightly, bringing the two as close as they could be, still staring into each other’s eyes “Just like Riddle’s Diary, I entered the fragment of your soul, saw you and a woman duel with Enos. Who are you Al, really?”_

_As soon as Harry had finished talking he felt an invisible force collide with his chest, sending him flying backwards. His world spun around him; he felt weightless, unstable, propelled by some unknown force until he came to a sudden stop, his body colliding painfully with something extremely hard, waves of nausea washing throughout his body._

_His vision blurred, fading in and out. Blinking rapidly, Harry tried to gain some semblance of awareness, to clear the mass of cobwebs than now clouded his mind. His head began to throb painfully; Harry managed to dimly acknowledge the fact that he’d probably hit his head, and might have a concussion, if you could get a concussion in a dream. As his nausea began to fade slightly, he was met by the sight of the unknown figure stalking towards him, staff held above the ground and thrust outwards like a weapon, the jewelled top glowing a brilliant, ominous red._

_He tried to move, only to feel another wave of what could only be magic hurl itself at his body, pinning him back against the cool hard surface of what he assumed was the towers wall., the jewel flaring at the same time._

_“Insolent fool” The figure came to a stop, his staff now level with Harry’s throat, the figures face contorted with rage and something Harry could not identify “I have never, and would never, make use of a Horcrux. It is a despicable ritual used only by the darkest of Wizards and Witches, who have no qualms in tearing themselves asunder”_

_“Then....what...is it?” Harry managed to gasp out, a headache quickly forming, one more intense than he’d ever had before._

_“That is a good question Mr Potter” The figures eyes narrowed yet again, head slightly cocked “What does this.....item look like?”_

_“It’s a portrait........ of you........ standing in front of a castle” Slowly but surely Harry could feel himself becoming increasingly dizzy, his consciousness slowly slipping away._

_“Where is it?” The figure spoke the words slowly, but with a force few could withstand._

_“Why should....I tell you...that?” He could feel himself running out of breath, his body crying out for a release from the magical hold; it was like having an elephant sitting on his chest. Or Dudley and Vernon Dursley at the same time._

_“Because it will be far less painful for you” The jewels glow slowly began to intensify, flashing angry and violent “I can extract its location from your mind if I so choose”_

_“This isn’t the first time someone’s used legilimency on me” Harry gasped, barely staying conscious._

_“This is far from the legilimency you are familiar with”_

_As the figure spoke, the red glow seemed to grow even brighter, causing a blinding pain to burgeon behind his eyes, the waves of nausea returning like an old friend. Slowly, the Astronomy Tower began to fade and blur, rapidly changing from one thing to another; flashing from parts of Hogwarts to Privet Drive, his dorm room at Hogwarts, the Prefects bathrooms, then inexplicably to Ron’s bedroom at the Barrow, though so far not to the place the figure was searching for. Harry could feel the magic worming its way through his brain, slick fingers teasing their way from one memory to the next, probing with a touch like ice._

_“Stop resisting Mr Potter.....” the figure mumbled as the glow intensified yet again; now pulsing from the staff over and over, beating like a heart, each pulse causing pain to flood Harry’s body, small moans  drifting from his slightly open mouth._

_His body began to slack in the magical hold, the mixture of pain and pressure proving to be too much. As the blackness of unconsciousness began to creep over him, propelled by pain, he couldn’t help but think about the portrait and the Ministry. As soon as he did, his surrounding began to shift accordingly; first the streets of London, then the bright red telephone box on the corner, leading on to the vastness of the Ministry of Magic’s interior, its winding corridors and finally, the circular room filled with portraits._

_“Thank you Mr Potter”_

_All at once, the pressure holding him against the wall and the pulsating waves vanished completely, and he suddenly found himself face down on the ground, his entire front screaming out in pain from the sudden drop and collision._

_Crawling gingerly to his knees, the young male looked up, expecting to see the staff levelled at his head, the jewel glowing an angry red....yet it was not so. The jewel wasn’t glowing and the figure had gone back to using the staff as a walking aid, instead of a weapon; his back was to Harry, and seemed to be shaking ever so slightly. Carefully, Harry shuffled backwards so he was sitting against the wall, instead of kneeling on the unforgiving floor; the cool wall aiding him somewhat, and dulling a small part of the pain._

_“The portrait of which you speak is very dear to me” The figures voice was quiet, quieter than Harry had ever heard, and lacking the usual force and self assured confidence “It is a remnant of a time long since gone, and of deeds that none now remember”_

_“What does that mean?” When he received no answer, Harry spoke again “For fucks sake, you tortured me just to find out where it was. Don’t I at least get to know what it is?”_

_The figure swung around to face Harry, regret written plainly across his handsome features, and a single stray tear trickling from one bright blue eye._

_“Before my wife died, she took some of her memories, and some of mine, placing them into the paintings she used to do” The sadness in the figures voice was palatable “They act like Pensieves, simply more....personal. Now do you understand why I desire its return?”_

_Harry swallowed, processing what the figure had just told him. It was unlike anything he had heard before, something he’d have to check with an expert on magical theory like Hermione, or even Monroe Layfield._

_“What about Enos?” he said slowly, the desire for answers ever present._

_“Enos was a dark wizard I assisted in capturing, and then imprisoning. He escaped eventually, and continued his so called work” The figure sighed, seeming almost tired “He had a penchant for burning muggle villages and starting plagues, all in the name of eradicating those he viewed as lower forms of life”_

_“I never heard about anything like that happening” Harry muttered, not entirely trusting what he was hearing._

_“I’m older than I look Mr Potter, this all happened long before you were born, long before your Voldemort” The figure grinned slightly, some of the old haughty manner returning._

_“Why should I trust a single thing you say?”_

_“The choice of trust or mistrust is entirely yours Mr Potter. Only you may make that determination. For now though” The figure smiled slightly as the world began to fade around him “I do believe it’s time to bring this to an end”_

_Harry barely blinked as the Ministry faded, a darkness oozing in and eradicating the floor and everything else it touched, like an old style television slowly turning the picture off. In the style he’d grown accustomed to, the figure began to fade along with everything else, morphing into the huge bird that was his animagus form, his beak opening wide and releasing an ear splitting squawk, eyes glowing red, then vanishing in place._

_Harry sagged back against the wall, suddenly tired, eager for the dreamscape he found himself in to come to an end; half a minute later, his wish was granted, the moment the Ministry faded entirely, his consciousness slipped away, like a switch had been flicked._

_xxx_

Harry shot up in the bed, dark hair plastered to his forehead by sweat, his breathing ragged and uneven. He ran one shaking hand over his head, reminded so much of the dreams he used to have when he was connected to Voldemort, though these were more like lucid dreams, instead of fragments of action he was observing. He was relieved to note that has wasn’t in any pain, aside from a headache; apparently, the pain was as much an illusion as the events themselves.

Regardless of how often he thought about it, the motives of the man in his dream remained a mystery; there was an agenda, of that he was certain, but it didn’t seem to involve anything that would cause outright harm to anyone. In fact, as Harry’s still foggy mind recalled, the figure had said he’d duelled and captured a number of dark wizards, though his methods were harsher than Harry was accustomed to; certainly beforehand, extracting knowledge forcefully seemed to have been something exclusive to the Death Eaters.  However, Harry knew too little to come to any definite conclusions where the figure was concerned, all he could say was the figure was dangerous and possessed power, though whether he was plotting conquest and domination like Voldemort was another question all together.

Glancing to his side, he noticed that Draco had rolled away from him, and had curled up in the bed with his knees drawn up close to his chest, like an infant seeking warmth. He couldn’t help but smile softly, the blonde causing a strange fluttering in his chest.  Draco’s long hair was splayed around his head, almost white gold in moonlight, whilst his normally tense and controlled features were peaceful and tranquil. Despite his best efforts, Harry couldn’t help but think it was a beautiful scene, which was a word he’d never have expected to use where Draco was concerned. Arrogant and sophisticated, perhaps almost ethereal in his beauty, but not cute.

He ran a hand over his sweaty forehead, pushing some of his hair aside, his rapidly beating heart beginning to settle, Draco’s sleeping form seeming to calm him somewhat. Harry flopped back against the plump pillows, taking slow, deep breaths.

“Sleep has a way of making even the hardest individual seem at peace. The mask we wear in public inevitably falls away”

Harry bolted up in bed for the second time that night, hand immediately flying towards the bedside table and snatching his wand up and aiming it towards the far corner of the room. His heart began to thump in his chest, his breaths came in short, sharp intakes, as he managed to discern a shape in the darkness, a shape that seemed to be seated on a chair.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Harry stammered.

“I’m here because I thought it about time that we met in person, Mr Potter”

As if on cue, which was almost natural in the wizarding world, the artful lamps that sat at various points in the bedroom sprang to life, bathing the room in a gentle glow, revealing the figure in the corner. Harry licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry, his body trembling with shock.

“It’s you.......You’re actually here” Harry kept his wand trained on the individual in the corner, smartly dressed in his usual attire of deep red tunic and knee length boots “The man in my dreams”

The figure smiled gently, entirely at ease and in control of himself, much as Harry had originally encountered him.

“I thought I should offer you my thanks once again, for the information on my property, and my apologies” The figure inclined his head, the move almost respectful “I was....rough. I shouldn’t have been”

“Was anything that happened real? Or was it all just a dream of some kind?”

“Real enough to kill, Mr Potter....” The figure grinned in a fashion that could only be called friendly, in a cold fashion.

“How do you do it? Is it a potion?” Harry began to lean forward slightly, his wand still trained on the figure in the corner, his mind racing, a glint of the old curiosity and adventurousness driving him.

“Ever the curious one, Mr Potter” The figure formed a steeple with his fingers, his piercing blue eyes trained on Harry with the intensity of a legilimens “It’s a spell......a very old one.....and a very powerful one. No something you’ll find in any library or school....not anymore”

“Where did you learn it then?” Harry asked, curiosity fully peaked, though it was tinged with a trace of suspicion, and a small sense of danger. In Harry’s experience, wizards who made use of old, and potentially forbidden magic, were more often than not the cause of considerable trouble.

“As part of my training, Mr Potter, along with a wealth of other skills” The figure smiled gently, and rose to his feet swiftly, seemingly unconcerned by the wand still trained on him “It has been a pleasure conversing with you in person, but I must take my leave Mr Potter”

The figure strode to the window, swift and silent, like a well dressed spectre; stopping in front of the expansive window pane, gazing out over the lush grounds of Malfoy Manor, and the rolling English country side beyond it. He seemed entirely lost in thought and at ease, suddenly reminding Harry so much of his old mentor, Dumbledoore. It was something in their demeanour that they appeared to share, the undeniable impression of knowing more than everyone else, yet still possessing an ease and humour.

“Are you going to hamper my exit, Mr Potter?” The figure spoke with a faint smile on his lips, still seemingly at ease, though the evident tensing of the muscles in his hand around the staff demonstrated a readiness for action, should it be needed.

Harry breathed evenly for a few moments, contemplating his answer, before lowering his wand, his face turned to the figure, his muscles still tensed.

“I don’t suppose I have much choice, do I?”

“I am no threat, I assure you. On my honour”

Still gazing out of the window, the figure’s body began to shimmer; wavering in and out of focus, in a fashion Harry had become intimately familiar with, the clear indication of an animagus transformation. Before the transformation took full effect, the figure glanced at Harry, a glint in his just visible eyes.

“My name is Allanon Reis; it has been a pleasure speaking with you...directly.....Harry Potter”

Snapping his head back to the window, his body swiftly shrunk; writhing and distorting so that in a matter of seconds, a large eagle hovered in the air in front of the window. A magnificent bird, larger than any found in the natural world; feathers as black as night contrasting with those of the purest white, and a yellow beak as sharp and as wicked as Snape’s tongue. With a small ruffle of feathers, the bird shot straight towards the window, passing through the glass like a ghost through the walls of Hogwarts, sailing into the night on powerful wings, leaving Harry with much to consider.

Harry’s posture at once slackened, his wand falling gently onto the bedside table. He exhaled slowly, and slid down in the bed, his mind ticking over everything that had occurred; only just registering Draco’s still sleeping form curling up at his side, one pale arm slung across Harry’s chest.

One train of thought seemed to dominate his mind, so much so that he spent the rest of the night awake, laying still in the bed with Draco breathing gently by his side: was Allanon a threat, and was letting him go unchallenged a disastrous error?

_xxx_

The bird flew over the Wiltshire countryside for close to half an hour before vanishing mid flight, reappearing quite suddenly in another part of England; a heavily populated city filled with towering buildings and a wealth of history. It’s sharp eyes scanned the grown below as it hovered, searching for something, it’s gaze drifting over buildings and the few people that littered the streets, despite the early hour. Moments later the creature located what it was searching for, swooping down towards the ground, landing smoothly by a bright red telephone booth.

In a swirl of magic and body distortion, the bird became a figure dressed in a dark red tunic; the man known as Allanon Reis. He stepped into the booth, closing the door firmly behind himself, touching a few buttons on the dial and promptly disappearing, emerging a moment later in the vast underground complex that was the Ministry of Magic.

Allanon took a few slow steps on the artfully tiled floor, bright blue eyes darting about the entirely vacant entry area.

“So, this is Ministry.....” He muttered, voice barely audible “Truly inadequate security”

He strode forward, boots clicking on the tiles, back straight and face set in a grim countenance. His focus exact, his every move possessing a clear and defined purpose. He made a small gesture with one hand, causing his staff to materialise in that hand, its metallic clang now added to the clicking of his heels. A moment later, the jewel at the staff’s head began to glow faintly, bathing Allanon in a red light; a red light that caused a black fabric to spawn out of nowhere across his body, knitting itself together until it formed a black robe, compete with a hood, rendering him completely obscured.

He made his way through the Ministry, accompanied by the continual sound of his own footsteps, passing through the abandoned, winding hallways like a ghost until he finally came to the section he’d been searching for. Tucked away amidst numerous other departments was a set of doors sheathed in magical wards, which led to the Auror Department.

Allanon stood before the doors for a moment, mind focused on the wards arrayed on the doorway, before stepping forwards, passing through them as if they were a simple illusion, instead of a set of entirely solid wooden doors reinforced with enough magic to knock a demenor out.

He strode quickly onwards, indifferent to the almost impenetrable darkness that permeated the Auror Department in the early hours of the morning, his shadow stretching along the corridors in the red light that followed him. He passed by innumerable officers, interrogation rooms, pausing briefly outside an office door with the name ‘Harry Potter’ emblazoned across the window in rose gold lettering, and the double doors that lead to the library. Before long, Allanon found himself at his destination, a simple room in the centre of the Auror Department; a circular room containing nothing but portraits, and at this time of night, the gentle rumbling of painted wizards and witches snoring away peacefully.

Allanon tapped the base of his staff sharply against the tiled floor, causing the large red gem to flare brighter, intensifying the red light, banishing every shadow and illuminating every single part of the room. He stood in the centre of the room for what could have been an age, slowly turning in a circle, black robes swirling around him, until he came his eyes landed on one particularly spot of the wall, and one particular portrait. Grinning broadly, though it remained entirely hidden under the heavy black hood, Allanon approached the portrait, laying his gloved hand on it, gently stroking the surface, contemplating the younger version of himself he saw before his eyes.

“What is the meaning of this intrusion?! Do you have any idea who I am?” Snapped a gruff voice from Allanon’s right, causing his hooded head to swivel to the side, seeking the speaker “I am a Lord! I do not appreciate my slumber being interrupted by ill educated interlopers!”

Allanon glared behind his hood, blue eyes focused with laser precision on the small portrait that was currently making enough noise to wake the dead.

“Be silent little fool” Allanon hissed, voice soft yet commanding “I have no idea who you are, nor do I care.....I have far more important things to focus on”

The elderly wizard in the portrait, a short man with an impressive waist line, large enough to rival most depiction of the Buddha, almost shot out of the heavily cushioned chair he’d been dozing in, wine spilling from the goblet clutched in his right hand.

“Impertinent chattel....mongrel born fool....” The wizard within the painting seemed to swell with rage, gesticulating wildly, his every word being punctuated by a thrust with the goblet “I am Mal Hoban Tighe, Lord of Summerset, ambassador to France for the Ministry of Magic, last of the Great House of Tighe, holder of the sacred....”

“Silencio...” Allanon waved his hand at the sputtering portrait nonchalantly, the charm cast effortlessly bringing an immediate effect, the excruciatingly loud complaints of Mal Hoban Tighe fading to nothingness “I have sat in the courts of the greatest Kings and Queens of Europe, you are nothing to me, little Lord”

Smiling faintly, enjoying the silence once again, Allanon took the portrait of himself from the wall, tucking it into the folds of his cloak, taking a small amount of pleasure from the multiple chuckles and satisfied grunts coming from the other portraits, all of whom seemed to enjoy the fact that Lord Tighe had been rendered silent, at least for a while. Allanon whirled around, casting a final spell at Lord Tighe’s portrait, transforming the wildly jumping and silent man into an equally silent spotted pig, who proceeded to run in circles, before careening off into the other portraits.

Amidst the raucous laughter of the portraits, Allanon swept out of the portrait room, heading out of the Ministry of Magic; back out into the London night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, bookmarks, the usual!  
> And thank you all for reading, I appreciate it to no end :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet again, this took me a little longer to finish and upload than I'd really have hoped, but I got it done eventually. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it, and fingers crossed, the updates will be coming in a little more frequently now :)

 

Draco awoke suddenly, his peaceful slumber disrupted by an incessant pounding, and what his still drowsy mind translated as someone flapping a bed sheet over and over. He lifted his head from the soft, warm confines of his pillow, blinking blearily, noting Harry’s absence from the bed and the odd ache that fact caused to blossom in his chest.

He swivelled his head towards the offending sound, blond hair falling around his face, draping over his eyes like a golden eye mask. He groaned, as his eyes fell on the window, and a shape that seemed to hurl itself repeatedly against the glass. The blond groaned yet again and slid out of his bed, silently bemoaning the fact that he’d been disturbed in the middle of a rather enjoyable dream involving himself and a number of pool boys. He cast his eyes around the room briefly, settling on the pool of steam emanating from under the bathroom door. Harry must have woken earlier and gone for a shower, a thought that the blond couldn’t help but grin at ever so slightly. Harry Potter naked, with hot water streaming down his body; a picture that made Draco shiver pleasurably, and made his cock twitch and harden slightly.

He shuffled to the window, squinting against the bright glare, pushing the window open, allowing the flapping shape to sail into the bedroom. He watched in bemused silence as the shape, which was apparently a small and extremely ruffled tawny owl, bounced around the bedroom, colliding with the walls until finally flying headfirst into a wardrobe. Draco frowned at the bird as it flapped on the floor, chirping in a somewhat drunken fashion, before it righted itself and flapped over to a chair, settling on the cushion like a drunk on a barstool.

“What an odd little thing you are” Draco frowned at the small owl, eyes glancing over its rumpled feathers, noting a small vibrant purple collar, and a little roll of parchment tied to its foot “So, you’re a Ministry owl. Their standards have gone downhill. I suppose you’ll be here for Harry then”

The owl hooted at Draco, a possible show of indignation, or a demand for treats. It was never easy to tell with the creatures. If they weren’t pecking you, it generally meant they were fairly content.

“I’m simply stating a fact. Don’t take that tone with me you shaggy pile of feathers”

The owl hooted again and began flapping its wings over and over, stamping its little feet on the cushion, shedding feathers over the emerald green cushion.

With a sigh, Draco went to his bedside table, opening the top drawer and pulling out a small packet of Eeylops Premium Owl Treats he kept there, in case any mail should be delivered to his bedroom window, which seemed to happen significantly more than he would have prefered. Taking a few of the pellets from the pack, he went back to the owl, offering them to it in the palm of his hand.

“Will that keep you happy?” Draco groused as the owl greedily ate the offering, wanting nothing more than to crawl back into bed, preferably with Harry to cuddle up with.

The owl looked up at Draco again, hooting once more before cocking its leg, offering the parchment; only to overbalance and collapse on the chair cushion amidst a loud squawk that rang through the blonde’s skull like a banshee’s cry.

“Ridiculous.....You’re almost as bad as the ratty little creature the Weasley’s use”.” He sighed, shaking his head and untying the note from the thrashing owl’s leg, then haphazardly setting the creature upright “Begone. Back to the Ministry with you”

Turning from the little bundle of annoying feathers, rejoicing in its inelegant flight from the room, Draco made his way back to the bed, depositing the note on the bedside table and collapsing into the confines of warm sheets once again, sighing loudly, eyes drifting shut once more. The temptation to give into sleep once more was great, and would have been possible if not for the fact that the shower room door happened to open at that very moment. Steam billowed out of the room like smoke from a dragon’s nose, slowly clearing to reveal a still wet and naked Harry, emerging from the bathroom with a small towel tied around his waist. Draco suppressed a chuckle, the scene had a dramatic poise that was more suited to a stage villain, or Professor Trelawney after a particularly exuberant show of her supposed divination abilities. Though the thought of Trelawney in nothing but a towel was enough to make him feel rather nauseous.

Eyes fixed on the damp vision across the room, Draco watched as Harry casually made his way towards the bed, seeming entirely at ease, as if he were in his own home. Something that he should, perhaps, take as a compliment, given the fact that Harry was his school rival and had a few unpleasant memories on the Manor. His eyes roved over the rippling of Harry’s light muscles, the dark wet hair hanging over his face like a curtain, and the green eyes peeking out just beneath; then onto an honest smile that dazzled and warmed all that were graced with a glance at it.

Draco was so wrapped up in his cataloguing of Harry’s features, he seemed to entirely miss the fact that Harry had flopped onto the bed next to him, and was only brought out of his reverie when he felt a set of warm lips, tasting of something he couldn’t quite place, touching his own, and a calloused hand caressing the side of his face. Draco blinked, mind focusing on the present once again, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as Harry pulled away, leaving a light heat in their wake, and a definite longing for more.

“Morning Draco” Harry said, a large smile plastered on his face.

“Morning Harry” Draco replied, smile growing slightly larger as he eyed the brunette “Need I point out the fact that you’re dripping on the bed?”

“It’s just water, it’ll dry” Harry shuffled on the bed, bringing him closer to Draco, his hand trailing across the blondes smooth stomach, lightly ghosting the pale skin.

“Thank you Harry, I truly love being in a wet bed” Draco deadpanned, though there was a slight hitch in his voice that didn’t escape Harry’s attention “There’s a note for you...from the Ministry...from one of their damnable owls...”

“I’ll read it later...there’s something else I’d rather do” Harry grinned, quickly divesting himself of the towel and sliding into the bed, pressing his damp body against Draco’s, his hard cock grinding against Draco’s thigh, a quiet moan escaping from his slightly parted lips.

“Really Harry I’m sure you have duties to focus on......” Draco trailed off, his breath catching in his throat as a warm and slightly rough hand began massaging his own painfully hard cock, squeezing the head and teasing the slit.

“Has anyone ever told you, you talk too much?” Harry muttered, still grinning, moving to straddle the blondes lap.

“People tend to enjoy.....” Draco attempted a harsh one liner, as he was famous for, but found himself unable to say anything more has Harry’s warm mass settled onto his lap, and his lips connected with his own once more, rendering all thought entirely impossible.

In a few short moments, Harry managed to kick the covers off the bed, pressing himself against Draco again, though this time with the ability to feel the touch of their skin, the slowly pulsating ecstasy as their cocks rubbed against one another; the blonde’s tongue pressing against his own, sliding along each other with a strange familiarity. Harry felt Draco’s hand run across his back, rubbing his shoulders then heading down, nails digging into his flesh and making him squirm as they made their way even lower, cupping and squeezing his arse, pulling the globes of flesh apart gently and probing his entrance, making Harry shiver and kiss harder.

With practised ease, Draco flipped them both over, adjusting his position enough so that he was kneeling between Harry’s legs, his cock pressed against Harry’s entrance, his thin lips pulled into a seductive smile. Licking his lips, and taking advantage of Harry’s momentary shock, Draco surged forwards, pinning Harry’s hands above his head with one hand whilst planting his other on Harry’s neck, his slim fingers finding the airways and applying a little pressure, enough to hamper his breathing

“I do believe you’re in need of disciplining Harry...forcing yourself on me like that” Draco rolled his hips, rubbing the head of his cock against Harry’s entrance, inching slowly inside of the brunette hunk below him “We can’t have that, now can we?”

“Yes Sir......” Harry breathed the words out, barely registering them before they left his mouth. He felt oddly at ease, relaxed. In any other situation, he’d have questioned his sudden deference, but here, in this moment, it felt right.

“Any other day, I’d flog you until you begged me to stop, but today....” Draco leant forwards, kissing Harry hard, biting his lip and plundering his mouth as if it existed for his own personal use, and nothing more “Today....I’d rather fuck you and fill your tight arse with my cum, make you my bitch like you were always meant to be. Would you like that?”

“Yes sir...please sir.....” Harry almost whined, surprising himself with the level of need contained in those few words.

“Good boy...”

Draco snapped his hips forwards, burying himself inside of the Saviour without further pretence, Harry’s inner walls clenching around him in spasms of pain and pleasure; whatever sound of pain or encouragement Harry made was lost in the rough kiss Draco gave him at the same time. Taking a brief moment to allow Harry to adjust, he broke the kiss and latched onto Harry’s neck, biting gently, then with more force. When he felt Harry relax further beneath him, the blonde’s hip began to rock back and forth at a breakneck speed, forcing himself in faster and deeper.

xxx

A little while later, the two boys were still in bed, covered in sweat, though huddled up together in an intimate embrace, Harry’s head resting comfortably on Draco’s shoulder, Draco’s arm slung over his shoulders to keep him close, a comfortable silence having fallen over them once the action had ended.  Sighing contentedly, Harry looked up at the slim blonde he was tucked against, green eyes examining the straight lines and angular nature of his face, the pale eyes that could flash so brilliantly when the mood took them. Fingers trailing across Draco’s hairless stomach, Harry ventured a question, something that had been playing on his mind for a few minutes now.

“Are you always so dominating?”

Blinking in mild surprise, Draco tilted his head towards Harry, stormy grey eyes meeting vibrant green.

“Not always. I can be far more controlling though, and rougher....” Feeling suddenly nervous, and not entirely sure why, Draco continued, a light blush rising on his pale features “It wasn’t too much for you, was it?”

“No no, I liked it” Harry smiled, blushing in return, a little unsure of himself “It was good. Really good. I’ve just never submitted to someone....like that.... before. I want to do it again sometime...”

Harry trailed off, smirking up at Draco, his meaning clear.

“Well well Harry, I’d have never thought you were such a deviant, but I guess I really shouldn’t be shocked” Draco hit back, grinning in return “No doubt the exalted Saviour needs to give up authority sometime”

“And a Malfoy is the perfect person to give it up to” Harry shot back, suppressing a laugh, though inching up to peck the blonde on the chin quickly, then rolling across the blonde to retrieve the letter “I can’t sit in bed all day. As much as I’d like to”

“I happen to enjoy that luxury every day, if only because my job prospects have become nil since the war ended” The blond muttered, mild irritation underlying his otherwise amused tone “Apparently former Death Eaters, and the sons of Death Eaters aren’t number one on the recruitment list”

“That fucking sucks, especially for someone with your skills” Harry mumbled, breaking the red wax seal and unrolling the parchment, eyes darting over the curling script.

“I’m used to it now. Really, it’s not so bad when you realise your families fortune will keep you going regardless, and with a figure like mine, I’m hardly going to starve” Draco smiled to himself, chuckling at his own joke, though his attention quickly went to Harry when no rebuttal was forthcoming; he frowned, concerned, and glanced at the letter in the brunettes hands “Is everything alright Harry?”

“I’m not entirely sure” Harry replied, tilting the letter to allow Draco a better view.

 

**Good morning Harry,**

**I must apologies for calling you in on your day off, but I feel your presence at the Ministry would be most rewarding. There was, you see, an incident in the Auror Department that might prove of interest to you.**

**Come by my office, and I shall tell you more over tea.**

**Warmest regards,**

**Monroe Layfield**

“Monroe Layfield?” Draco raised his eyebrow at Harry, pondering over the contents of the letter, and the total lack of detail “Does he often invite you to tea for stimulating conversations?”

“No, far from it” Harry said, shaking his head “He’s the librarian and archivist, basically. But he’s a recluse, never talks to anyone unless it’s a case or a point of historical interest. He seemed to really like Hermione though.....they spent hours talking about the Ministry’s history and theoretical magic at a Christmas party”

“Sounds like he’s the life of the party” Draco replied drily, pushing a few strands of stray hair from his eyes, the move catching Harry’s attention, and making the brunette smile ever so slightly. On Draco, the move was strangely cute.

“Oh yeah, he really knows how to have fun. Reorganising the filing system is one of his favourite activities” Harry said, matching Draco’s dry humour.

“Taking tea with him must be a truly riveting activity. As much as I envy you the experience....” Draco popped his neck, left then right “I do believe I would rather be here, with my potions. I’ve been hoping to improve the Alihotsy Draught, ideally to prolong and intensify the effects”

“Alihotsy Draught?” Harry slipped out of the bed and began pulling on his clothes, which had at some point been folded and left on one of the multiple chest-of-drawers in the bedroom; Harry assumed it had been Missy, and did his best to ignore the faint sense of embarrassment it caused him. The thought of the eccentric house elf folding his clothes whilst he was naked and with her master in bed disturbed him.

“It’s a beautiful little infusion, if a little ineffectual. It induces hysteria in anyone who inhales the fumes or ingests the liquid” He tilted his head, watching Harry dress, feeling a pang of regret; the brunette really did look so much better with his clothes off, all bronzed skin and rippling muscle “I found, however, that the effects don’t last as long as one might hope, and they can be resisted all together with the right counter spell or serum. Or simply from constant, small scale exposure”

“Why would you want to improve something like that?” Harry asked, a hint of confusion in his voice as he buttoned his shirt.

“Personal defence, perhaps sell it for a small fortune” A faint blush arose on the blondes cheeks “I was hoping to give you some as well. The vials are normally very small, and easy to conceal. Might be useful against some of the criminals you have to deal with, in case a disarming charm works on you”

A smile crossed Harry’s face, a large almost blinding smile accompanied by a slight laugh, before he flopped on the bed and delivered a long, deep kiss to Draco, only to then stand up once more and straighten his clothing.

“That’s probably one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for me” Harry gushed, still smiling like a lunatic “I mean, it’s kind of evil and very Slytherin, but it’s so fucking thoughtful”

“Yes, well....” Draco groused, slightly flustered though secretly enjoying the happiness Harry was displaying, and the sudden kiss “I can’t have you being hexed into oblivion, or Merlin forbid, dying out there. You’re the only friend I have, you blasted idiot”

“I’m the Saviour, I’m not that easy to get rid of” Bravado seeped from Harry’s every word, though it merely served as a way to cover what he was feeling, and exactly how much Draco’s intent actually meant to him. Knowing that the blonde wanted to go out of his way to protect him, left Harry feeling warm, light headed, as if he were the only person in existence that Draco Malfoy cared about.

“So I’ve heard” Draco chuckled, his cool and collected mask back in place once more.

Running his hands over his clothes once more, ensuring he looked at the least mostly presentable, Harry all of a sudden felt extremely awkward, not knowing what to say, or what to do. He’d had what could be called a romantic dinner with the blonde, then slept with him yet again; he had no experience to tell him how he should behave the ‘morning after’, as he’d so often heard people call it. Whatever was happening between Draco and himself confused him, but he didn’t want it to end.

“So, uh...” Harry mumbled, trying not to show his embarrassment, or how nervous he was feeling “I guess I should be going then...”

“I guess you should, can’t be keeping Layfield waiting after all” Draco smiled, slowly climbing out of the bed “Just two questions for you before you go”

“Uh...yeah?”

Harry gulped, eyes locked on the other male in all his glory. Tall and thin, light muscles clearly visible, skin pale and beautiful like the snow, with only a few scars marring the otherwise pristine flesh, hard nipples like little flesh peeks; long platinum blonde hair hanging just below his shoulders and shifting as he slinked across the room, his normally cold steel eyes now an icy blue. Harry’s breathe hitched in his throat when his eyes reached what lay between the blondes legs, standing hard and proud, and as beautiful as the rest of him.

“Tell me Harry” Draco purred, one long fingered hand slipping into Harry’s as the other trailed up his arm, resting on his shoulder “Are you busy tonight?”

“N....N.....No.....” Harry stammered, barely above a whisper, though he was so close to Draco it didn’t matter, the blonde had heard his response and pressed their bodies together accordingly.

“Good. Which brings me to my second question” Draco breathed out, his breath tickling Harry’s skin, as his slim lips brushed lightly against Harry’s “Have dinner with me tonight?”

“Yes.....” Harry answered as if on autopilot, mind barely registering what was going on, instead far too occupied with the close proximity, and the fact that his shirt buttons were delicately being undone once more.

All thoughts stopped a moment later, when Draco’s lips pressed against his own with a force so demanding, he could do nothing but give in to the will of their owner.

_xxx_

Eventually, after having at long last extricated himself from Malfoy Manor and the almost addictive company of Draco, Harry made his way towards Whitehall, the location of the Ministry of Magic, as quickly as was possible; an easy feat for any wizard or witch above a certain age. It was a simple case of apparating to a private location and walking from there, easy enough to achieve in the twists and turns of the London streets. Step out of a shadowed alley into the dull winter light, grey and overcast as one would expect in England, and join the throngs of humanity huddled under heavy coats and scarves going about their business, their breath billowing out in front of them like smoke from a dragon’s maw.

Glancing at the people  as he walked with them, Harry caught a few stray glances cast his way; the slight tilt of heads, the knowing light in their eyes that said they knew exactly who he was, and what he’d done. It was the look he received from so many in the Wizarding world; it was the look of gratitude and respect, sympathy, awe. Almost immediately, the urge to apparate away to the quiet solitude of his small apartment or one of the many rooms of Malfoy Manor threatened to overwhelm him. To get away from the endless adulation and hero worship that had plagued him for his entire life; to at last achieve his desire to be _normal_ for just a little while. Just an everyday wizard, with a loving family and partner, and not a war hero.

Walking faster now, striding through the commuting throng of humanity and gently shouldering his way through until he came upon the bright red phone box, slipping inside and out of sight, feeling the hum of magic enveloping him. On more than one occasion he’d wondered exactly what charms covered this part of London, to grant the illusion of normality, when wizards and witches were vanishing in an entirely too obvious phone box. Though perhaps that was part of it, perhaps people had simply learnt to ignore what they could not explain, their minds ignoring and dismissing irregularities with practised ease. He made a mental note to ask Hermione about it sometime, she’d know, and would likely tell him the answer along with a plethora of information he wasn’t interested in.

Touching the cold metal of the numbered key pad, he dipped his other hand into his pocket to pull out a small token engraved with spiralling symbols, which he inserted into the coin slot. It was a security pass of sorts, which had been introduced after the Ministry had been freed from Voldemort’s control. He held his breath and tucked his arms in close to his sides as he felt the floor disappear from under him. One moment he was standing in a phone box in the middle of a busy London street, the next he was plummeting down through a tight, curved tunnel, rocketing below London in the pitch black until he was spat out the other end a mere 10 seconds later into the always impressively illuminated and perpetually overcrowded entryway of the Ministry of Magic.

The entryway, if you could call it that, for the description hardly seemed fitting for an area that must have been the length of at least 3 football pitches, was bustling with activity, more so than was normal. Everywhere he turned; his eyes were met with a sea of bright colours that if one took the time to study, could be discerned as the extravagant robes of the witches and wizards who’d crammed themselves in. Bright greens, oranges, luminous yellows, rich purples, and what seemed to be a new trend of hot pink robes, which did nothing but remind Harry of Delores Umbridge. At least the new pink robes didn’t make the wearers resemble frumpy middle aged women.

The other quality that always left him speechless when he arrived at the Ministry was the noise, the almost incessant cacophony of humanity shouting at one and other, trying to be heard above every other person who was doing the exact same thing. It reminded Harry of the one time he’d been to an airport, to collect a relative of Uncle Vernon’s, a rail thin woman who’d appeared in a bright green vest and a pair of painfully small white shorts, whose name he couldn’t remember.  It was the same noise, the same chaos, the same mass of humanity milling back and forth with only a vague idea where to go. Though collecting the relative had been much more enjoyable, since he’d inadvertently caused her suitcase to sprout little furry legs and run around the baggage collection area. The staff were confused, whilst Uncle Vernon had responded in his usual fashion: intense and explosive anger, that generally involved him becoming extremely red, and puffing up like a great hairy balloon.

Exhaling softly, more to relieve tension and to prepare himself for the no doubt strenuous task ahead, Harry began to shoulder his way through the crowd of milling wizards and witches, cutting through the semi orderly lines some of them formed until he reached the doors leading to the Auror Offices. He slipped through, letting the doors swing shut behind him, the cacophony of chattering humanity instantly dying down, thanks to the muffling charms that surrounded the numerous office wings in the Ministry. Feeling somewhat more relaxed now he was in a less crowded space, Harry slowly made his way towards his destination, the library and the unexpected meeting with Monroe Layfield. The letter had been somewhat obscure, saying only that there’d been an ‘incident’, and further details were better discussed over tea. Receiving a letter from the librarian was strange enough, given how much the man was known for avoiding social interaction, but being invited to a chat over tea?

The whole thing left Harry wondering exactly what was going on. From what everyone had told him, and from what he’d seen of Layfield himself, receiving a wedding invitation from Voldemort would have been more likely than being invited to afternoon tea by Monroe Layfield.

_xxx_

A short while later, after navigating the book shelves that migrated around the room on some strange whim of their own, the heavy tomes that flew around with reckless abandon, and the dusty chests that still snapped at his feet as he passed them, Harry was sat opposite Monroe Layfield at the older man’s cluttered desk. Harry sat slumped in the high backed chair, watching the bone china cups and saucers fly around the desk, trying to coordinate with a flying teapot that couldn’t entirely decide where it wanted to land. It had seemed partially inclined to settling on a stack of books, but ended up thinking better of it when the books began to sway from side to side, as if they wished to avoid the tea pot. Which was entirely possible, Harry concluded, though he wished they wouldn’t swoop so near to his head.

Monroe Layfield sat in his usual fashion, back ridged and as straight as a metal rod, arms resting gently on his desk, long thin fingers steepled in front of him, a serine smile set on his wrinkled face. He was again wearing a dark brown robe, which gave the impression that he was, in fact, a part of the chair he sat in.

“Did you want a biscuit? I’ve recently acquired some wonderful muggle biscuits. Bourbon, I think they’re called” As he said this, a china plate stacked with bourbons appeared on the desk between them “They’re really very enjoyable, if a bit dry. They don’t quite compare to Ginger Newts, however”

“I used to love these when I was growing up” Harry said, reaching for one the biscuits, and ducking his head as an ink pot flew by, coming precariously close to colliding with him “Custards cream’s are great too”

“Custard cream?” Monroe tilted his head to the side, much like a dog, considering the name “Such curious things the muggles create. Perhaps it should be referred to the Muggle Studies Department, I’m sure someone there could write a wonderful thesis on biscuits and pastries”

“Sounds like something Arthur Weasely would write, or read” Harry said, grinning at the older man.

“I suspect he may have already” Monroe replied, leaning back a little in his chair “He’s written numerous essays on Muggle technology, and how it could be intergraded with our own magic. It’s a curious path of research to pursue.....though there is no support from the more traditional in our community.....but that is a debate for another time I believe”

“Yeah....you said something happened. So, what’s going on Monroe?”

Monroe settled further back in the chair, picking up a biscuit and holding it delicately in his fingers, staring at it intently as though it was a rare object, before taking a bite.

“I apologise for the tardiness of the tea, my pot seems to have a mind of its own at times” He rapped his knuckles on the desk, causing the cups to settle on the desk; the pot followed a moment later, ceasing it’s lazy overhead circling in favour of going about its task, pouring steaming tea into the cups “I hope you don’t mind Lapsang Souchong, a rather delicious Asian blend I discovered many years ago. It’s from the Wuyi region of China’s Fuijian province”

The older male took hold of his no filled cup, raising it to his lips and drinking deeply, his whole posture changing subtly, relaxing almost immediately.

“It really is a wonderful flavour. Perhaps an acquired one, but I loved it’s smoked flavour from the moment I had my first sip” Monroe mused, gazing into the depths of his cup, eyes fixed on the dark liquid within “Taken black, and without sugar, of course. Wouldn’t want to dilute the flavours”

“Thanks for the tea......but, uh, you said something happened...” Harry said, trying to gently bring the older man back on topic, an issue he’d never had with Monroe before.

“Ah, yes. You must forgive me Harry....Understand, it is a somewhat delicate situation that very few are aware of” He placed the cup back on the desk, resting his hands flat alongside it “There was a break in last night, in the Auror Offices. A theft, to be precise”

“What? Someone actually managed to break in? But I thought the security and wards had been doubled since Voldemort managed it” Harry leant forward in his seat almost immediately, his posture shifting from relaxed to tense and prepared, his training taking effect “What was stolen? Was anyone hurt?”

“One question at a time, my dear boy” Monroe raised a hand, palm facing Harry in a gesture that clearly said calm down “You are correct, the protective wards have been reinforced on countless occasions since Voldemort’s occupation, though this apparently did not stop the perpetrator. As we speak, a small group of wizards and witches are looking into how the spells were bypassed. No staff members were hurt during the break in, however....”

Monroe paused, taking another sip of tea, whilst gathering his thoughts.

“However what?” Harry pushed, desperate for answers, even as the older wizard began lowing his cup to the saucer once more.

“However” Monroe resumed “One of the resident portraits, one Lord Tighe, whom I believe you’ve encountered before, was found in a most distressed state this morning. The silencio charm had been cast on him, though some Auror’s, and most of the other residents, found this more amusing that worrying. As to your third question...”

Again, Monroe paused, this time leaning toward Harry and fixing him with an intense stare, his brown eyes seeming to bore into Harry’s very soul, as if he were naught but a simple book to be opened and read at leisure.

“Only one item was stolen. A particular portrait, which has caused my predecessors and many other Aurors much confusion, and many a long sleepless night.  The very one you happened to ask me about” All at once, his tone changed, shifting from passably casual to hard and probing “Is there anything you’d like to tell me Harry? Did you touch the portrait, perhaps, and see something?”

Harry blinked rapidly, licking his lips, finding them suddenly dry. Slowly, he took a sip of the strong, smoky tea, trying to calm nerves that had become frayed and jittery, without him even noticing. He’d never seen the older man show so much force, and it worried him. The once thing he could say for certain was that Monroe Layfield knew more than he’d originally said, and he couldn’t figure out why, at least not with the older wizard staring at him like a suspect in an investigation.

“Do you think it was me then?” Harry said cautiously, his tone remaining even, trying his best not to give anything away.

“No....I think nothing of the thought.... _we_ don’t think you broke in Harry” As the words left Monroe’s mouth, his posture seemed to deflate somewhat, sagging into the chair, his face softening “My apologies. This situation brings things to the forefront that some had hoped would be forgotten, or had _vanished_ all together”

“Then why did you ask me to come here? To tell me privately that someone had stolen something I’d asked about? Come on Monroe, I’ve investigated crimes like this, it doesn’t make sense to do this” Harry gestured around them, at the cups, the biscuits, the teapot that was slowly inching its way off the desktop and into the air “Unless you know more than you’re saying”

“Quite right my boy, quite right. Lord Tighe was kind enough to offer a description of the perpetrator, which is why I was instructed to ask you here, for a private talk. Given your storied history, it was felt that you would be a likely candidate”

“Candidate? For what? Monroe....please....what exactly is going on here?”

“A candidate for a visitation, as they’ve come to be called, if only because no other term seems to be appropriate” Monroe sighed loudly, his breath wheezing out of him with a sound akin to a steam train “Tell me Harry, and please, answer me truthfully, have you ever been approached by a man calling himself Allanon Reis?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews, favourites, whatever you feel it deserves :)

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I appreciate any feedback :)


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